


Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

by Deans_Fetish



Series: Supernatural RPF/Criminal Minds Crossover [1]
Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Bottom Jared, Character Death, Drugging, F/M, Graphic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Schmoop, Swearing, Top Jensen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-09
Updated: 2012-06-09
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:18:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 46,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9089188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deans_Fetish/pseuds/Deans_Fetish
Summary: A serial killer is targeting dark haired muscular male actors. When Jared is kidnapped and his wife brutally murdered in their home, it’s the men and women of the FBI’s BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit)’s job to figure out how to find him before Jared joins this mad man’s growing list of deceased victims.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Genevieve Cortese-Padalecki DIES in this fiction. If you are a Fan of Genevieve's you may wish to PASS on this fiction. PLEASE BE ADVISED. 
> 
> Fiction was written for the CROSS BIG BANG on LiveJournal in 2012. 
> 
> A special thanks goes to Jeff Davis for the creation of Criminal Minds, the set up and some of the words used within this fiction. A special thanks also goes out The Mark Gordon Company and CBS Television/ABC Studios. 
> 
> As for the fiction itself, I realize I am crossing genres here, however I couldn’t see this as a Supernatural/ Criminal Minds crossover - it just didn’t fit with how the victims in Criminal Minds usually are. I hope that regardless of that fact you enjoy the story told herein. **Note:** Author has taken liberties with some of the information in this story, please be advised.

** Prologue **

The rough cement floor bit into the bare skin of his back but that was the least of the victim’s worries as he struggled to focus his blurry eyes on his assailant. He knew that the man stood over him even with his inability to see well, the stench of sweat and sex wafted off the man, filling the tiny room, causing the victim to gag as well as duck his head in shame. He knew that one of the odors that his assailant reeked of was due to him; his own body stank of it as well. The scent of sex from having been raped repeatedly by the man after he’d drugged him enough to force him to be docile seemed to overpower the room, mocking him.

His naked body bore the evidence of his capture and subsequent rape. Blood was dried and caked upon his once flawlessly tanned skin, every inch beaten and broken. Fresh blood oozed from the gash in his forehead that seemed intent on not coagulating, running downward and to his eye that was nearly swollen shut. His sides heaved with his heavily panted breaths; the stale air of his small confines seeming to grow even more sparse with each passing second that he was forced to share what little oxygen that he had with bastard who had done this to him.

“You think you’re so special, don’t you? Like the world owes you something just because idiot women and fags throw themselves at your feet,” the man’s voice growled from just above him.

The battered man on the floor shook his head adamantly, “No,” he croaked in denial only to receive a hard kick to his ribs for his trouble; ribs he was fairly certain were already broken. The pain that sliced through him had him gritting his teeth as a long grunted cry of pain tore from his throat.

“I know better. I’ve seen you. _Watched_ you,” the other man insisted darkly, voice soft and sinister. “And now, you’re going to pay for being the self-centered, egotistical, and _pathetic_ little bastard that I know you really are,” he hissed.

The other man’s screams as the butcher knife punctured his stomach and chest multiple times soon gave way to gurgled mumblings as blood filled his mouth while he begged for a mercy that never came.

 

** Chapter One **

**_Quantico, Virginia_ **

David Rossi’s soft chuckle at what Derek Morgan and Emily Prentiss were teasing Spencer Reid about died away as Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner walked into the room.

“What have you got for us, J. J.?” Agent Hotchner inquired as he entered the conference room of their headquarters and took a seat with the others at the large table in the center of the room.

Reid glanced over at Hotchner with a tight lipped smile before returning his attention to the front of the room where J. J. stood about to give a rundown on their latest case.

“We’ve got three victims so far; Casper Van Dien, Drew Fuller, and Taylor Kitsch,” she began, their photos appearing on the screen behind her.

“All of whom were found murdered, lying naked in cemeteries with their arms and legs spread wide. It’s not clear if this is part of the unsub’s M. O. or not, but the victims were also all brutally raped before they were killed,” she explained.

“Well he’s not hiding them,” Agent Hotchner mused quietly.

“The unsub used a knife to kill all three of his victims and all of them in the same manner. Multiple stab wounds to the chest in no apparent order or placement and one deep wound to the abdomen in which the unsub rips the blade upward through the body,” continued J. J.

“He’s angry,” David Rossi tossed out, “It’s probably the first place he stabs,” he reasoned.

“Anger would make sense for the way the wound is inflicted not to mention the rapes before hand which is a crime of anger and not about sex at all,” Reid agreed.

“Wait,” Prentiss cut in, “aren’t these men actors?” 

She looked at the others around the room before returning her attention to J. J.

“Yes, they are,” J. J. agreed, “All of these men were actors, all of which were physically fit and all of them had dark hair. Each of them were kidnapped, either from dimly lit areas or, in Taylor’s case from his home.”

“He knew the unsub?” Reid questioned, frowning in confusion.

“It’s not clear if he did or not but there were no signs of forced entry. One of them was taken just days before they were later found dead. However the other two victims were missing much longer than that. Casper was found just three short days from the time he went missing while Drew and Taylor were missing for an entire week before their bodies were recovered.”

“What are their age ranges?” Morgan inquired.

“Well, that’s where things differ again. Casper was forty-three where Drew Fuller was thirty-one and Taylor Kitsch was thirty. The two younger men, along with being held longer also had more lacerations to their face and bodies, all of which were received before their deaths,” J. J. answered.

“The younger the victim the longer he spends with them carving them up,” David Rossi surmised disgustedly.

“Yeah,” J. J. allowed with a nod. “The L. A. P. D has no leads and has asked us to come over there and give them a hand with this before it becomes anymore of a media circus than it has.”

“The media has leaked this already?” Hotchner asked.

“Well, not mainstream media,” J. J. corrected. “E - online entertainment, Entertainment Tonight, TMZ and other celebrity news channels, but not the more reputable news agencies, no.”

Hotchner sighed heavily and his lips pressed into a thin line of determination as his eyes moved over his team then returned to J. J. 

“I guess we’re going to Los Angeles,” he muttered.

**_Los Angeles, California_ **

Arriving in Los Angeles the team was redirected from meeting with Captain Newberry at the police department to meeting with him out at the latest crime scene.

Climbing out of the two large, black Bronco trucks allotted them once they’d reached the Angelus Rosedale cemetery, the BAU team surveyed the area, taking in everything that was happening around them and the area where the body seemed to be located, and headed in that direction.

“FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit?” An older African-American man with short clipped salt and pepper hair asked as he hurried over to them.

“Yes, I’m Aaron Hotchner, this is my team,” Hotchner introduced, indicating the others that followed along with him.

“Captain Newberry, not to be confused with Halle Berry,” the captain replied at a near ramble, obviously offering that joke frequently to people when he introduced himself.

“I’m sure am glad to see you guys,” he acknowledged with a weary sigh as he walked alongside them over to the body.

Morgan smiled at the man’s attempt at levity however Hotchner never cracked a smile, never flinched, only continued purposely forward, his features set in hard determined lines.

The team and the police captain came to a halt as they reached the body. They stared down at the victim, a late twenties to early thirty something man laying naked upon the cold, damp earth. His arms and legs were spread wide and his body was torn to shreds, riddled with puncture wounds including the first one, the angriest one, delivered to the abdomen.

“Jason Behr,” Newberry muttered disgustedly. “He went missing about a week ago, friends thought at first that he’d just taken off with his girl after they’d fought but then when she showed up a couple days later and he didn’t…”

Hotchner tore his eyes off the body and turned his attention to the Captain, “Can we talk to the girl?”

Captain Newberry nodded, “Sure, I’ll have one of my guys go pick her up.”

Hotchner nodded and returned his gaze to what was once a young man with a bright future but had now been reduced to nothing more than a rotting corpse.

“Where were the two of you the last time you were together?” David Rossi asked Jason’s girlfriend, Chloe, as he sat with her in one of the interrogation rooms at the Police Department.

She sat across the small table from him wiping daintily at the mascara running from her teary eyes as she sniffled softly, her eyes flickering between Agent Rossi and the table top.

“We were at a concert,” she replied tearfully.

“A concert,” David echoed, “Were there tickets to this concert?”

She lifted her eyes and shook her head, “No, it wasn’t that kind of concert, um, there’s a new band, The Brian Buckley Band. A lot of us are trying to help get them going,” she explained with another sniffle.

“Of course,” David said feigning sympathy and understanding.

He sighed heavily, eying her, “What was your fight with Jason about?”

“Do I have to answer that?” she inquired.

“I’d appreciate it if you did,” he replied with a nod.

She sighed heavily as though put upon and crossed her arms over her chest. Turning her head, she stared at the wall stubbornly for a moment before bowing her head dejectedly.

“I wanted to get married,” she whispered before slowly lifting her head, looking across the table at Agent Rossi, her eyes filled with fresh tears. She shook her head as her bottom lip quivered, “He didn’t and we were arguing about it… again, for the hundredth time and I got mad. So I got up and just left,” she said with a small shrug before a sob broke from her throat, “I left him there,” she cried, “If I hadn’t left none of this would have happened and he’d still be alive!”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Do you believe her?” Hotchner asked apathetically as David Rossi walked out of the interrogation room.

Agent Rossi paused in his steps and looked over at Hotchner who stood at the two way mirror with his arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he stared in at the girl.

“I believe she didn’t kill him,” David allowed.

Hotchner sighed heavily and nodded before he turned and walked purposefully away from the mirror.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Returning to the office the Captain had given them; Agent Rossi recounted what little he’d learned from Chloe.

After hearing what Rossi had to say, Derek Morgan reached for his cell and punched a key connecting him with their Technical Analyst.

“Hey, baby girl, I need you to do some of your magic for me,” Derek Morgan said into his cell.

Penelope smiled on the other end, “Oh you got it, sugar, just tell me what ya need.”

“I need you to find out what Jason Behr, Casper Van Dien, Drew Fuller, and Taylor Kitsch all have in common, if anything. I also need you to check out some, ‘Brian Buckley Band’, see what kind of dirt you can dig up on them and get back to me on it,” Agent Morgan replied.

“Aw, and here I thought you were gonna give me something tough,” Penelope pouted. “I’m on it, sugar; I’ll have that for ya in couple minutes here.”

“You’re the best,” Derek praised with a grin.

Penelope chuckled, “Oh you know it,” she quipped with a smile as her fingers flew across the computer keyboard and she ended the call.

The music was loud, the bass booming through each body within the Viper Room, thudding in their hearts and inside their skulls; luckily for each of the people inside, the alcohol that flowed freely seemed to numb the patrons to any of that. Aware of only the hard and fast strains of music that in their drunken stupors seemed to be the best they’d ever heard; the yammering of acquaintances that stroked their egos, and the flavors of fine wines and expensive liquors that tickled their pallets.

Jared sat at a table drinking red wine, surrounded by people he barely knew but who acted as though they’d known him for years. It wasn’t anything new, it tended to happen often actually. Someone in the industry would see an actress or an actor out for an evening and elbow their way over and suddenly they were the star’s best friend, or at least they thought so. Then there were the fans that actually had the nerve to come over and join the party without being invited. And lastly there were the few who were sweet enough that you actually invited over, although they were also the quietest ones at the table.

He was on his third bottle of wine, not to mention the shots of Jack he’d done with Brian during sound check before hand. It wasn’t hard to see that he was long past buzzed and that he definitely couldn’t give a rat’s ass at this point exactly who the hell he was sitting with. His wife was somewhere off in the crowd of people doing God only knew what. A couple minutes ago he’d noticed her posing for pictures with a glass of wine in her hand. He wondered briefly how she was able to stand upright since she’d been drinking almost as much as he had. He glanced down at the floor next to him at her five inch spike heels and frowned thoughtfully or as thoughtfully as a guy drunk off his ass could. Figuring that her not wearing those likely aided her ability to keep standing; with them on, she would be falling flat on her face. You only needed to look at her eyes and note how glazed they were to know she was three sheets to the wind.

Derek Morgan’s cell rang as the team was going through files that the L. A. P. D had given them on the past deaths trying to find something to connect them other than the fact that they were all actors. Standing to his full height from where he’d been bent over the table searching through pictures, Derek pulled out his cell and glanced at the screen before answering.

“What ’cha got for me, baby girl?” He greeted, “And be good,” he added, “I’m putting you on speaker.”

“Ooh,” Penelope whined, “nothing good,” she replied as her fingers continued to fly across the keyboard.

Derek’s brow creased as he frowned in concern, “What is it, what’s wrong?”

“Okay,” Penelope said before taking in a deep fortifying breath, “There were things that they all had in common other than the actor gig,” she began.

“Each one of our vic’s had a Twitter account where they told more about themselves and their wives or girlfriends than well, than I would have,” she mumbled incredulously.

“Uh, what’s a twitter?” Dr. Reid inquired curiously.

Prentiss chuckled and reached over, laying her hand on his shoulder, “It’s a social networking site,” she explained.

Spencer lifted his brows as he looked up at her and pressed his lips together in a small smile before mouthing the word, “Oh,” and pressing his lips together again.

“They also all were supporters of this Brian Buckley Band,” Penelope continued then paused as her fingers flew over the keyboard. “In fact… each of them went missing just after a BBB concert,” she explained.

“All of them, right after a concert?” Derek inquired curiously.

“Someone in the band?” Agent Rossi mused thoughtfully.

“Maybe they’re using it as a cover?” Prentiss suggested.

“Mmm,” Prentiss hummed thoughtfully, “Maybe we can use the site against our unsub, see who signed in to the victims Twitter accounts and go from there?” she suggested with a shrug.

“Garcia,” Hotchner began.

“I’m on it, sir,” Garcia interrupted, already knowing what was going to be asked of her.

“But just to warn ya, that’s going to take me a little while, every housewife on the planet has been on these fellas Twitter accounts at one point or another and then some,” she mumbled with a roll of her eyes.

“Let me trudge through this and I’ll call you back when I have something,” she suggested.

“Social networking sites are surprisingly insecure, Facebook recently tried to update all their privacy settings and in doing so made everyone’s profiles viewable,” Reid volunteered.

“Internet is how he is finding them, but in the case of Taylor Kitsch, it doesn’t tell us how he got into his house,” Hotchner remarked.

“Mm, seems the alarm systems were turned off at both houses,” Reid muttered.

Derek reached out with one hand and was just about to click off the telephone only to pause at the sound of Garcia’s traumatized gasp.

“What? What is it, what’s wrong?” he insisted.

“Oh God,” she whined, “The sick rat bastard filmed it. It’s all here, everything,” she whimpered. “It’s all over the web!” Penelope cried, typing madly.

Taken aback, Derek slowly lifted his gaze to Hotchner as did the rest of the team.

“Send it,” Agent Hotchner replied firmly, “All if it, _now_!”

The music in the Viper Room was dying down, the last song for the night one of the few slower ones that the band performed, containing not as much base or screaming electric guitar riffs though the rhythm was still quick and the tempo upbeat.

Jared and Genevieve staggered toward the back door of the club where they wouldn’t be spotted so easily by paparazzi as they left the LA club.

“Whoa, dude, where the hell do you think you’re goin’?” Steve Carlson asked as he rushed over, blocking Jared’s route to the door.

“Uh, home,” he replied with a lopsided grin.

“Is Cliff coming to get you two?” Steve asked looking from Jared to Gen and back.

Jared frowned, likely more than was needed in his drunken state, “No… why?”

Steve held out his hand, “’Cause you’re not drivin’ like that, gimme your keys and I’ll drive you,” he replied.

Jared harrumphed and started to step around Steve only to be shoved back.

“I’m not playin’, man,” Steve warned, “No way am I explainin’ to Jensen why your drunken ass got behind the wheel and I didn’t stop you.”

Jared grinned and snickered drunkenly, “Aww, are you scared’a Smeckles?” He slurred.

Steve frowned in annoyance, “Don’t be an ass,” he grumbled, “Now gimme your keys.”

Jared huffed and handed over his keys begrudgingly, “Don’t hurt my truck,” he pouted.

Steve rolled his eyes as he turned away from Jared and walked to the door, holding it open for him and his equally drunk wife.

A tall hooded figure stood in the darkness, waiting; cloaked by the cover of night. He watched from the shadows of the Viper Room’s side parking lot as Jared, Steve and Genevieve crossed the lot to the truck parked at the end of one row.

On a large screen in the office that the team had in the police office, a home video footage popped up mid action, showing a hooded figure standing before a naked bound man, one that was barely recognizable as Jason Behr, their latest victim. The sound of clothes being removed and Jason’s muffled cries against the leather gag in his mouth filled the silence of the room.

“Oh God, he’s gonna…” Penelope whined.

“Yeah, he is,” Derek agreed flatly.

“Oh, ew, ew, ew, tell me when it’s over,” she shrieked.

The rest of the team watched the video screen intently, all of them that is except J. J. who ducked her head when things got a little too graphic for her.

“Well?” Penelope shrieked.

“Not yet,” Derek muttered, his attention fixed on the screen.

More moments past and still the brutal rape continued.

“Oh God…” Penelope murmured, tears stinging her eyes as she sat turned away from her own computer screen.

“Not… yet…” Rossi mumbled, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he watched the scene before them.

Suddenly the screen went silent and blacked out.

“Now, baby girl, it’s alright now,” Derek said.

“Oh thank God,” Penelope sighed, turning back around in her chair.

“He records it so he can relive the rape over and over again,” Agent Rossi mused disgustedly.

“Uh, guys, that’s not all. This one was streamed a few days later after that one,” Penelope said as her fingers moved over the computer keyboard in front of her and she sent yet another video.

“Here - here it is,” Penelope rambled, “Just tell me when it’s over. God, please tell me when it’s over,” she whimpered, turning away from the scene.

This one depicted Jason’s death in all of its Technicolor glory. Starting at the moment that the unsub entered into the small room in which the victim was being held and continuing onward to the first stab wound in the chest, the carving of the victim’s face and body, then followed up by the ripping stab wound to the abdomen that was the cause of each victim’s death. The last scene just before the screen went black however was one of the unsub’s masked face looking directly into the camera.

“It’s over,” Derek muttered dully, his attention still glued to the now blackened screen as he shook his head.

“That sick son of a bitch,” he spat disgustedly.

“Tip of the hat to his fans,” Emily mumbled.

“Classic Narcissistic tendencies,” Rossi scoffed, “he performed for his audience.”

“Where is this, Garcia?” Hotchner asked, “Where did you find it?”

“It’s all over the net and parts of it are cut up all over the place as pictures. Dreamwidth, AO3, LiveJournal, they’ve all got it,” she explained.

“Heh, some of them are using the stills of his naked body as icons,” she muttered in disbelief.

“Icons?” Rossi asked incredulously, brow knitted in confusion.

“Yeah, they’re like picture place cards a person can use instead of their own picture, they probably don’t even realize where it came from if he chopped it up and just sent it around the web,” Penelope explained.

“Great,” Agent Hotchner spat, heaving a heavy sigh.

“Garcia, find out if this Brian Buckley Band has anymore concerts going on in town. I want to know when and where,” he ordered. “And can you track down the members of his _fan club_?”

“Y-yes, sir, right away sir,” Penelope stammered as she went to work on doing as she was told.

Her mouth opened and closed at Hotch’s last inquiry, “I…probably, yes, I can try,” she muttered with a nod. “I definitely can find them if he does it again and if you give me a bit I can track everything from how he got it there to where he is streaming it from.”

“Hurry,” Hotchner ordered curtly.

Dr. Spencer Reid stepped across the room to stand before the pictures of the deceased victims, frowning thoughtfully.

“Has anyone noticed that there seems to be a connection here?” he mused.

“What?” Agents Hotchner and Rossi asked, both coming around the table to stand beside Reid.

“Yeah,” Spencer murmured, glancing from one man at his side to the other before returning his attention to the photos before him.

“Just give me a minute to break this down mathematically,” he murmured, stuff frowning at the photos as he reached for a dry erase marker.

“Okay,” Reid said as he took a step away from the photos a few minutes later.

“I knew there was some sort of a connection here but I just couldn’t see it until I broke it down mathematically,” he began with a glance at those around him, “It is the same reason we are so drawn to celebrities - because there is a symmetry to their beauty, their eyes, the ears, the ratio of the forehead to the chin. The more balanced they are the more appealing they are to our eye - strip away eye color and skin tone and what are you left with geometrically?” he coaxed excitedly.

“Uh, their foreheads are sloped,” Emily muttered.

“Noses are long, slightly pointed,” Derek remarked.

“Jaws are square,” Hotchner surmised.

“He might not even be aware that he sees it in them, there have been studies that suggest that we pick our spouses subconsciously based on the facial symmetry that we recognize,” Reid commented with a soft grin.

“So subconsciously or consciously when he sees it, he has to destroy it,” Rossi deduced.

“Which means he only interested in the victims as they relate back to him,” Prentiss reasoned.

“Maybe they are a reflection of him in some way,” Morgan suggested.

“In the Greek myth Narcissus was so self absorbed that he fell in love with his own reflection in the water,” Reid allowed with a nod.

“He finds these men and mutilates them… but then whose face does he really see?” Prentiss mused.

“His own, which is where the anger comes in when he kills them,” Rossi replied.

Hotchner looked past Reid over at Rossi before turning back toward the table, “Garcia, I also need you to see if anyone twittered about going to a Brian Buckley concert anytime soon and send me a photo of the person who tweeted it,” he instructed.

“I’m on it,” Penelope replied distractedly. 

“I got it!” Penelope exclaimed excitedly. “The Brian Buckley Band is playing at the Viper Room and there was a tweet from some actor that goes by Jarpad on Twitter, but I found that his real name is Jared Padalecki and he said that he was going to the concert!”

“When?” Hotchner inquired curtly.

“Um,” Penelope hummed thoughtfully as she continued to work, “Oh no,” she mumbled worriedly, “tonight,” she breathed.

“Send me a picture of this Jared Pada…Pada,” Hotchner stammered and glanced up toward Reid for the answer though Reid only shrugged helplessly.

“Padalecki, sir,” Penelope cut in.

“Whatever, just send it,” Hotchner grumbled.

“Right away, sir,” she replied.

“The rest of you get to the Viper Room,” Hotchner commanded. “Reid, you stay with me, when this photograph comes in I want you to I.D. this guy as to whether or not he’s a possible target.”

Reid gave a small tight lipped smile and nodded to Agent Hotchner, his hands slipping into the front pockets of his dress slacks while he glanced over at the others, watching them as they headed out.

The team arrived at the Viper Room a half hour later. It appeared that they were too late for the concert, the parking lot already nearly empty and the club itself quiet save for the low voices coming from the area of the stage.

Agent Morgan led the way, ignoring the strange looks from passersby and those still mingling out front of the establishment as they entered since they were all wearing bullet proof vests and packing.

“Hey,” a muscular man with long blond hair called out as he stepped up in front of Agent Morgan, placing a hand in the center of the Agent’s chest, blocking his path. “Is there something I can help you guys with?” he inquired glancing past Derek toward the others with him briefly before returning his attention to Derek once more.

“Yeah,” Derek replied with a nod, “you can get your hand off me,” he suggested curtly.

“Oh stuff the testosterone show down, boys,” Prentiss huffed with a roll of her eyes as she stepped forward. “We’re looking for a Jared Padalecki, do you know him?”

The blond turned his attention to Emily with a grin, “Aw, he’s married. _I_ on the other hand…”

Prentiss smirked and shook her head, “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” she muttered drolly.

“So you _do_ know him,” Derek surmised. “We need to know if he’s still here by any chance.”

“Hey, Steve, is there a problem?” Another man asked as he walked up, this one with long brown hair though if Reid was right, his facial features didn’t fit the profile for what the unsub was looking for in his victims.

“No problem, Brian,” Steve replied, eyeing Derek another moment before turning around as Brian walked up.

“Can I help you guys?” Brian asked, looking from Derek to Rossi then over at J. J. and Emily.

“Are you Brain Buckley?” Agent Rossi inquired as he stepped forward.

“Yeah, I am,” Brian confirmed with a nod, “What seems to be the problem?”

Rossi’s gaze slid briefly to Prentiss at his right then to Derek at his left before returning to Brian.

“Do you know a man named Jared Padalecki?” Agent Rossi inquired.

Brian looked from David Rossi to the others with him then over to Steve and back at Agent Rossi, “Is Jared in some kind’a trouble?”

“We have reason to believe that his life might be in danger,” Rossi replied.

“What?” Both Brian and Steve exclaimed in unison.

“Is he here?” Prentiss pressed.

“He was,” Brian allowed with a nod, “I saw him earlier tonight.”

“But he left about a half hour ago, I took him and his wife home,” Steve concluded.

At that news, Derek Morgan, Emily Prentiss, David Rossi and J. J. Jareau all looked at one another with annoyed disappointment, concerned by the fact that they had missed him.

Derek pushed the com on his shoulder and turned his head marginally toward it, “Hotch, he was here but he left about a half hour ago.”

“What about Brian Buckley?” Hotchner inquired.

“Uh, he’s standing right here,” Derek replied, eying Brain with disdain.

“Get someone from the department to bring him in then get out there and find Jared,” Hotchner commanded anxiously.

“Reid just positively identified him as having the same facial symmetry as the other men that our unsub has gone after,” he explained with an exasperated sigh.

“Shit,” Derek swore softly as he squeezed his eyes closed before opening them once more and looking irritatedly around at the other members of the team.

“Are we sure?” Emily inquired.

“You ever known Reid to be wrong before?” Derek Morgan replied in answer.

“Eeeeh,” Emily whined as she grimaced, knowing Derek had a point, Dr. Spencer Reid was almost never wrong.

“Yeah,” Derek sighed, “We’re gonna need to find him fast,” he agreed firmly.

A group of officers entered the building and crossed to where Brian Buckley was standing. Two of them patted Brian down then cuffed him since his band was the only lead and he was the only suspect that they had so far. Linking their arms with his, the officers walked Brian out of the building toward their waiting patrol cars while Derek turned his attention back to Steve. He jutted his chin at him as Derek crossed the short distance between himself and Steve.

Genevieve stood before her dressing table in the elegant bedroom of her and Jared’s large two story home removing her earrings and placing them back in the jewelry box sitting on the table.

“Jared, are you coming to bed?” she called as she took a seat in the small metal chair, unfastening the clips from her long brown hair, brushing it out.

“Uh, I’ll be there in a minute,” he called back.

Gen frowned at her reflection, “What are you doing?”

Jared grinned as he held open the sliding glass door, watching the dogs run out into the back yard as though it were the greatest place on earth to be.

“I just wanna give Jensen a call,” he replied as he slid the door closed.

Genevieve sighed exasperatedly and rolled her eyes, “Translation, you’ll be up all night,” she muttered to herself before shaking her head disgustedly.

Jared staggered down the hall toward the bedroom, his cell phone in hand and his attention lowered to it as he pushed the preset button that would dial Jensen’s own cell.

Instead of continuing down to the master bedroom, he turned to the right stepping into the spare room where a computer was set up along with a webcam. Along one wall sat a single bed covered with a navy blue quilt with pillows piled high at the headboard. Knocking the door closed behind him, Jared took a set on the bed and waited for the call to be answered.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing up so late?” Jensen’s voice answered.

Jared grinned goofily as he swung his long legs up onto the mattress and leaned back against the pillows.

“I missed you,” he replied drunkenly.

Jensen scoffed softly, “You’re drunk,” he retorted.

Jared huffed, “Yeah so? Does that mean I can’t miss you?”

Jensen sighed on the other end of the line, “No, of course not,” he allowed softly.

“How are you? I mean other than drunk,” he inquired.

Jared giggled, actually giggled, “Good,” he answered, “I’d be better if you were here though,” he confessed.

“Dude, did you just _giggle_?” Jensen asked incredulously before chuckling. “And yeah, I know, me too, baby, but I’ll see you in another couple weeks.”

Jared sighed, “Yeah, I know,” he mumbled dejectedly.

“Hey, if you see Danneel, give her my love too, huh,” Jensen suggested.

“Really?” Jared asked excitedly, “Can I?”

Jensen huffed, “Shuddup ya bitch,” he grumbled playfully.

Jared giggled again, “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he mumbled. “But I’m not a bitch, that’s Sam.”

Jensen smiled, it was something that you could almost hear over the wires, “You’re _my_ bitch,” he argued huskily.

Jared groaned in reply, “God, you are so not fair,” he whined.

Jensen gave a husky chuckle on the other end of the line then everything went silent a moment before he spoke again.

“Take care of yourself, baby,” Jensen murmured softly.

“Yeah, I will. You too,” Jared replied.

Jensen scoffed, “Hell, what am I gonna do, die from a directorial induced sore throat?”

Jared snickered, “If there was such a thing I could see you finding a way to catch it.”

Jensen grumbled incoherently in response eliciting a chuckle from Jared.

“Hey, you wanna webcam?” Jared offered.

“Oh God, do I,” Jensen replied longingly, “But I can’t, baby, not right now, you actually caught me between takes. Everyone’s waitin’ on me to get off the phone with my sweetheart and get back in there.”

Jared sighed, “Yeah, okay, I know. Well, I love you,” he murmured a trace of sadness in his voice.

“I love you too, Jay,” Jensen said softly. “And I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Jared nodded, a gesture Jensen couldn’t see. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed. “Bye, my Smeckles.”

“Bye, Jare-baby,” Jensen murmured just before the line went dead in Jared’s ear.

Jared sighed as he clicked the END button on his cell. He could almost hear Jensen yelling out, _“Okay, action , ya’ll…”_ That thought had a wistful smile curling his lips as he rolled over in the bed and swung his legs off the side of the mattress, sitting up.

He considered letting the dogs in and going to bed, but he didn’t really feel like it right now; not after having just spoken with Jensen, his lover’s image clear as day in his mind and memories of them together putting a smile on his lips.

Leaning over, he pulled off his boots and socks, setting them aside before sitting up. He pulled up off the bed then and stood to his feet, padding across the room to the door. Pulling it open, he made his way down the hall toward the bathroom having decided to take a shower and get some of the smoke smell off of himself before taking care of the dogs and turning in for the night.

“We got an address,” Agent Morgan said into the com on his shoulder as he and the others climbed swiftly back into the black Bronco, “1821 North Shore Drive, we’re headed there now.”

“Reid and I will meet you there,” Agent Hotchner replied.

Steve watched as the black Bronco backed out of the lot and tore off down the street, emergency lights in the window flashing.

“I gotta call Jen, he’s gonna want to know about this,” Steve mumbled to himself.

His eyes continued to track the Bronco until it disappeared around the corner, its tires squealing on the pavement.

Pounding on the front door roused Genevieve from having nearly fallen asleep. She lifted her head groggily from the pillow and squinted at the bright red numbers of the alarm clock on Jared’s bedside table.

“Jared,” she called out on a whine, “get the door!”

More pounding and no sounds of feet moving against the floor toward it had her huffing in disgusted anger.

“Lazy ass…” she mumbled under her breath as she sat up in bed and swung her legs off the side of the mattress. She slid on the slippers that she had sitting next to the bed, the ones that matched her long black night gown. Standing to her feet she stumbled out of the bedroom and down the hall, pounding her fist on the closed bathroom door in anger as she passed it.

“Frickin’ Prima Donna,” she muttered in irritation at her husband.

Gripping the banister, she made her way down the winding wooden staircase toward the front door as the pounding sounded again.

“I’m coming!” she snapped at whoever it was on the other side.

“Who the hell pounds on someone’s door in the middle of the damn night?” she grumbled in annoyance as she stepped off the last step and walked over to the door.

In her irritation and anger she unlocked the door without looking out the peephole to see who it was and threw the door open wide.

“What!?” she barked angrily.

Her eyes slowly widened, all traces of sleepiness falling away as her gaze moved over the man before her. His clothes were all black and he wore a jacket with a hood, between it and the dark plaster-like mask, his features were completely obscured from view except for his eyes which were a ruddy shade of blue.

She gasped in a breath and reached for the side of the door, intent on slamming it back closed. The man quickly moved his foot, work boot lodging against the side of the door effectively keeping it from moving; the fact of which drew Genevieve’s attention to his foot and she gasped fearfully before struggling harder to force the door to close despite the obstruction. The assailant’s eyes narrowed irritatedly as he knocked the door forcibly out of her grip with one hand while shoving her back from the doorway with the other.

Genevieve stumbled backward further into the house, her gaze fixed on the man at the door, watching as he crossed the threshold, stepping into the house.

“Jared!” she called anxiously, her eyes never leaving the intruder.

“Yes, call him,” he hissed softly, “please do,” he coaxed, his voice rough like sandpaper.

Genevieve’s brow creased curiously at the oddity of the man’s words. Why in the hell would he _want_ her to call for Jared? Her mind raced as she continued to back away from the assailant as he advanced toward her. She thought back a couple weeks to when she’d been flipping through channels on the television while waiting for Jared to get ready to join her before going out for the evening and the report she had heard on E!-online about a murderer that was targeting actors which at the time she had dismissed as more rubbish that the press was tossing out in an attempt to get more viewers.

Her back smacked into a petite writing table in the small alcove near the foot of the stairs sending a ceramic pen and pencil holder crashing to the floor the sound of it shattering filling the spacious house. The impact halted her steps and caused her attention to once more become solely focused on her attacker, never mind whatever it was she had inadvertently broken.

She leaned back away from the man as far as she could when he advanced on her, crossing the remaining distance between them. She saw the glint of a knife a second before she felt the impact of his fist and the searing burning pain in her abdomen. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him in shock and her hands shook as she reached down toward the area where she knew he had stabbed her; fingertips dancing over the cool metal of the blade where it pierced her flesh. A whimper tore from her throat and tears filled her dark eyes as she lowered her gaze to the dark stain that slowly grew, spreading out against the satiny material of her nightgown.

“Shhh, it’s alright, it’s okay,” the assailant soothed her as he lifted his free hand and brushed back her hair from her face almost tenderly.

She slowly lifted her eyes to his face as a terrified soft cry tore from her throat and she shook her head in denial. He pulled the blade from her stomach and rammed it in again while his other hand tightened into a fist in her hair, brutally yanking her head back. His lip curled in disgust behind the mask, something she would never see, but it was evident in his tone as he spoke.

“I told you to shut your fucking mouth,” he growled softly.

His gaze roamed over her features, “Such a pretty little bitch, but still just a bitch, it’s all you are and all you’ll ever be isn’t it?” he snarled disgustedly, eyes narrowed with anger before they suddenly softened and his hand in her hair shifted slightly.

“Shhh, you don’t have to lie to me. I know, I know all about it and I’m going to save you from this life, I’m going to set you free,” he consoled almost breathlessly as he leaned the side of his head against her forehead.

Blood began to fill Genevieve’s mouth, painting her lips a bright scarlet, her teeth stained with its crimson hue. She coughed and sputtered, choking on the quantity of blood filling her throat, spilling into her mouth. The excess dripped from her bottom lip; some of it hitting her nightgown while other droplets fell further dotting the expensive white tiled floor.

The water running upstairs shut off as Jared finished his shower and reached outside the enclosure grabbing one of the thick towels piled high on the brass stand sitting nearby. He listened curiously as he dried off having thought that he’d heard something break a few moments before.

“Hey, Gen, is that you? You up?” he called out, listening to see if she answered him or if perhaps he’d imagined the shattering sound.

Genevieve’s eyes widened as she heard Jared’s muffled voice carry through the house.

“Jared,” she struggled to call back, though her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. “Run,” she whimpered in warning.

Her attacker growled with rage and his face contorted in angry lines behind the mask that he wore. His eyes glazed over further and tightened with fury as his hand fisted in her hair tightened painfully.

Lifting his head, he searched the house frantically for a way he could accelerate the little bitch’s demise before Jared came down too soon looking for her; he had to get ready, had to prepare and it would not do to have his plans thwarted by this pathetic little cunt. Spotting the entrance to the kitchen, his lips curled into a deviously malicious smile behind the mask that he wore as an idea struck him. He roughly pulled her backward toward the kitchen by her hair while shoving her by the knife he held embedded deep in her stomach.

Soft whimpers of denial and fearful whines sounded from her lips as she struggled to keep up with the madman that was nearly dragging her across the floor, her feet paddling backward as swiftly as her broken and bleeding body would allow. Reaching the corner between a row of cupboards and the kitchen sink, the assailant threw her down against the cold tiles and the thick cherry wood cabinets; the action causing the knife to rip from her belly and blood that the blade held at bay to gush forth, the crimson stain on the front of her black gown spreading rapidly.

A choked sob broke from her throat as she tilted her head down, her trembling hands moving to the wound, covering it as though in a vain attempt to hold back steady flow of blood. Her attention snapped up and she cringed back from him, up against the cupboards she was leaning against as her attacker angrily slammed cabinets closed while opening others hurriedly as though he were agitatedly searching for something.

Crouching down beside Genevieve, he reached for the cabinets under the sink, opening them up. Pulling out a bottle, he gripped it tightly in one hand before his head snapped up; his malicious gaze meeting her tear filled one. The skin around his eyes crinkled slightly as his eyes narrowed, his lips she couldn’t see curving into a wicked cruel smile.

Releasing the cabinet, he turned toward Genevieve and inched closer to her. She tried to cringe away from him but her body was simply too weak and there was really nowhere left to go. It only just barely registered as he thoughtlessly reached for her and gripped her jaw roughly with his hand that wasn’t gripping the bottle that he must have tucked the knife away somewhere. In the next moment he was shoving her head back against the cupboard behind her viciously, her skull thunking loudly with the brutal impact.

“Shhh,” he soothed as he popped the cap in the small blue labeled white bottle, “I’m going to make it all better,” he comforted softly while he squeezed her jaw, forcing her mouth open.

Her eyes flickered upward, watching as he lifted the bottle up over her opened mouth. She fought to make a sound, to reject what was happening only for it all to be in vain as despite all her attempts to save herself, her attacker callously began pouring the liquid down her throat.

Jared quickly finished drying off nearly positive he had heard something that seemed amiss downstairs. He stepped out of the shower and reached for a pair of jogging pants that he kept in the bathroom so he could slip into them quickly when he needed to in order to take the dogs for a run.

“Gen? Genevieve! Honey?” he called as he tied the drawstring to his pants while heading for the bathroom door.

Throwing the door open wide, Jared quickly crossed the distance between the bathroom door and the top of the stairs.

“Gen?” he called out as he began to descend the steps, looking out toward the sitting room and entryway for any sign of her.

As he descended further his gaze lowered to the floor and Jared noted the dark crimson dots that were blaringly obvious against the stark white of the Pietra Firma’s LuxTouch tiles. His brow creased and his steps quickened as his mind raced as to what could have happened. What if Gen had severely cut herself on whatever had broken and was now passed out somewhere and that was why she wasn’t answering?

“Gen!” he yelled anxiously.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs Jared saw what it was that had broken, shattered on the floor beneath the antique writing desk lay the plaster pen and pencil holder that one of Genevieve’s cousins had gotten them along with the rest of the stationary set that was now completely askew on the desk’s surface as a wedding present. Tearing his gaze away from that, Jared nearly missed the fact that the front door was standing wide open. His brow furrowed in confusion as to why the door would be open and he detoured over to it, carefully stepping over the blood splatters and broken bits of turquoise ceramic peppering the floor. Stepping up to the threshold of the door, Jared peered out, looking left and right, searching the yard for any sign of Genevieve. Not seeing anything that seemed to be amiss, Jared backed up and carefully closed the front door then turned and headed into the sitting room to see if perhaps for some reason Genevieve might have went in there.

Finding the room empty and in perfect order, Jared walked back out of the room and headed toward the kitchen. It was the next room back as he moved through the house and he figured that it was probably the best way to find her, working his way back and going from room to room. It’s what Dean and Sam would do. That thought would have had a smirk tugging at his lips were he not so worried about what might have happened to Gen, after all, she was no bigger than a minute, if it was a bad enough cut God only knows what shape he might find her in. That fear had him nearly reaching for the phone to call his brother Jeff to get a doctors perspective but he knew from doing enough Supernatural episodes along with the average first aid knowledge that most people had that he didn’t have time to do that, at least not until he found her and knew for certain what kind of shape she was in.

“Gen? Honey, come on, answer me!” he called out as he hurriedly made his way to the kitchen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

His back was pressed against the wall near in the corner of the back of the kitchen where the sink light cast him in darkness and shadows. After having filled the small syringe he’d brought with the drug he used to paralyze his victims, the assailant poured chloroform from a brown bottle which he’d pulled from the pocket of his black hooded jacket onto the white linen rag he held in his opposite hand. Now ready for Jared to appear, he pulled the syringe back out of his pocket and tugged the cap off the needle then waited. It was all he had left to do, wait for the right moment to attack and take the next one, to purge the earth of their self righteousness, their self centeredness and their egotistical ways.

_Thy eyes are upon the haughty, that Thou mayest bring them down. ~ 2 Samuel 22:28_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jared entered the kitchen and his breath caught in his throat as his eyes went wide with alarm, seeing his wife slumped against the cabinets, her head hanging forward limply. Blood pooled on the floor around her body and her nightgown appeared to be covered in it; the black satiny material now a strange sort of wet brown color.

“Oh my God, Gen,” he breathed anxiously a second before he rushed over and crouched next her slack body.

His eyes filled with tears as he reached out a trembling hand and with the tips of his index and middle fingers, felt for a pulse against the side of her neck even though he was fairly certain he wasn’t going to find one. He drew in a shuddering breath and a sob caught in his throat as his feet went out from under him sending him to his knees beside her when his fears were confirmed and there was no steady beat underneath his fingertips. He pulled her into his arms, the movement causing her head to loll back against his forearm that was wrapped around her shoulders. Jared gasped in a devastated breath as he looked down into her upturned face, seeing the white foam mixed with blood that oozed from between her softly parted lips. Her hands were still wet with blood and there was enough of it on the floor that he could feel the sticky substance soaking through the knees of his jogging pants. Tears spilled from his eyes to roll slowly down his cheeks as he surveyed the damage that had been done to her. He might not have been _in_ love with Genevieve, that part of his heart was saved for only Jensen, but he did love her and to see her like this tore at his heart. He lowered his head to hers, his face against the crown of her hair as he wept softly for her. He knew he needed to get up and call the police, but she was already gone what would a few moments while he held her and said goodbye hurt?

Jared was so lost in his grief that he didn’t even think about the fact that his wife’s attacker could still be in their home. It was the last thing on Jared’s mind at the time and it was that exact thing that gave his assailant the added leverage that he needed to be sure that things went according to his deranged plans.

“How much further, Morgan?” Prentiss asked as she leaned forward, her hand gripping the back of his seat as he drove at speeds well above the lawful limit.

“Not much,” Derek answered, “according to GPS we should only be about two or three miles away.”

“Well, let’s hope our unsub’s not already there,” she muttered as she released his seat and leaned back in her own.

“Hey, Steve, how are ya, man? What’s up, man?” Jensen answered his cell, a smile on his face as he walked off the lot and toward Clif and the waiting SUV that would take him to his home away from home.

“Uh, I’m good, Jen, listen are you somewhere we can talk?” Steve asked as he toyed with the shot glass in front of him.

Releasing the glass he reached for the bottle of Jack Daniels and poured more of the amber liquor into it. Setting the bottle down with a dull thud, lips curled down into a frown of concern as he reached for the glass.

Jensen’s brow furrowed in confusion at Steve’s words and the tone of his voice. “Uh, yeah,” he replied, glancing toward his trailer off to the side of where he’d been headed. “Just gimme a minute.”

“Hey, Jensen, where ya goin’? Misha called as he continued toward his own car.

His brow furrowed with confusion, not unlike his character’s as he watched Jensen detour off path, no longer heading toward the SUV.

“Uh, I’ll be there in a second, tell Clif I’ll be just another minute, okay?” Jensen answered, pulling the cell away from his mouth so he wasn’t screaming in Steve’s ear.

“Who is that? Is that Jared?” Misha inquired with a grin teasing at his lips.

“Tell the Moose that I got another follower today, he’s falling behind,” he teased, a wide smile curling his lips.

Jensen nodded but he didn’t bother to tell Misha that it wasn’t Jared. He could inform the man later after he’d found out from Steve what the hell was going on and why he sounded so spooked.

Tugging open the door to his trailer, Jensen climbed the steps and went inside, closing the door behind him.

“Okay, I can talk; now tell me what the hell is going on, what’s wrong?” Jensen insisted.

In the next breath a horrible thought hit Jensen which had his eyes widening and his heart racing with fear and dread, it seemed to be the only thing that made any kind of sense as to why Steve was acting like this. Steve and Chris had kind of taken it upon themselves to take turns, depending on their own schedules and one or the other would look after Danneel in his absence.

“Oh my God, something happened didn’t it?” He demanded fearfully.

“What?” Steve asked in confusion, “No, no, Dani’s fine, Jen, it’s not her,” he soothed.

“Oh,” Jensen sighed in relief as he lifted a hand and ran it down his face, a gesture Danneel would have teased him about due to it being so ‘Dean-like’.

“Don’t scare me like that!” He growled irritatedly.

“What’s so important then that I needed to be somewhere private?”

Steve sighed, “Maybe you should sit down,” he suggested.

Jensen frowned, “I don’t wanna sit down,” he grumbled.

“Would you just tell me already?” he snapped.

“Jen, uh, I think something might have happened to Jared,” Steve said softly.

Jensen frowned in utter confusion; he’d just talked to Jared not two hours ago. The worst thing that could have happened to him as far as Jensen knew was that Genevieve was having to hold that moppish hair of his back while he threw up moose sized buckets of vomit.

“Why would you think that?” he asked incredulously.

“I just talked to him. He was drunk but he seemed alright to me and he didn’t mention anything being wrong. Don’t you think that if something were wrong he would have told me?” he responded.

“Uh, I don’t think he knows,” Steve retorted. “There were a bunch’a FBI agents in here a little bit ago, Jen. They said that Jared might be in danger. They took Brian, Jen; they said he was a suspect.”

“FBI?” Jensen muttered in confusion.

“Wait, danger?” he inquired incredulously, his eyes widening slightly in alarm.

“What kind of danger?” he demanded anxiously. “And why the hell do they think that Jared’s buddy Brian is a suspect?”

“I dunno… I mean, they said Jared’s life might be in danger…” Steve began only to have the cell go dead in his ear.

Eyes wide with fear, Jensen quickly hung up his cell. Turning, he yanked open the door to his trailer and all but flew down the steps and ran across the distance separating himself from Misha and Clif.

“Ya gotta get me to the airport, _now_!” he commanded.

“What?” Cliff asked totally confused.

“What’s wrong, Jensen?” Misha asked calmly.

Jensen’s attention swung to Misha, “It’s Jared, something’s wrong, he’s in trouble, I’ll explain on the way,” he replied anxiously.

“Right now,” he began as he hurried over to the passenger door of the SUV and yanked it open determinedly, “someone needs to get me to the Goddamn airport!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serial killer is targeting dark haired muscular male actors. When Jared is kidnapped and his wife brutally murdered in their home, it’s the men and women of the FBI’s BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit)’s job to figure out how to find him before Jared joins this mad man’s growing list of deceased victims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve Cortese-Padalecki DIES in this fiction. If you are a Fan of Genevieve's you may wish to PASS on this fiction. PLEASE BE ADVISED. 
> 
> Fiction was written for the CROSS BIG BANG on LiveJournal in 2012. 
> 
> A special thanks goes to Jeff Davis for the creation of Criminal Minds, the set up and some of the words used within this fiction. A special thanks also goes out The Mark Gordon Company and CBS Television/ABC Studios. 
> 
> As for the fiction itself, I realize I am crossing genres here, however I couldn’t see this as a Supernatural/ Criminal Minds crossover - it just didn’t fit with how the victims in Criminal Minds usually are. I hope that regardless of that fact you enjoy the story told herein. **Note:** Author has taken liberties with some of the information in this story, please be advised.

Silently the assailant crept out of the shadows, making his way forward up behind Jared; the drug filled syringe in one hand and the chloroform soaked rag in the other.

Jared pulled his head up and sniffled, a tear falling from the end of his nose, dripping down onto Genevieve’s cheek and rolling downward along the contour of her face before disappearing somewhere near her ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered, “I should have been down here, I should have protected you better. Oh God, Gen,” he cried and buried his face against her hair once more, shoulders shaking with his sobs.

What he wouldn’t have given to have Jensen there right now. He thought about that as he wept, about how if Jensen were there he’d know what to do; he’d know how to take care of everything. Jensen would hold him in his arms while he cried and his Smeckles would make the phone calls to the police and to Genevieve’s parents for him. Jensen always took care of him like that, was always a source of comfort and strength and love.

“God, Jen, I wish you were here,” he whispered softly as he squeezed his eyes tightly closed.

It was in that moment that the assailant struck, wrapping one arm around Jared’s neck he pressed the chloroform soaked rag against Jared’s nose, covering his mouth with it, muffling any sounds that Jared would make in the process.

Jared’s eyes immediately snapped open as one rather obvious thought ran through his mind, _‘Oh my God, he’s still here…’_ He released Gen completely in an attempt to reach back and fight off his attacker only to hesitate as Genevieve’s body thudded against the wood cabinets drawing part of his attention away from fighting as though some part of him had momentarily forgotten that she was dead and he was concerned about the fact that she had hit so hard. It only lasted a second, that hesitation where his anguished and traumatized brain had to pick through everything that had happened as well as what was happening now and make some sort of logic of it all. However the assailant used that moment to his advantage, stabbing the needle into Jared’s jugular vein and quickly injecting the drug.

Jared’s eyes widened and his heart pounded fearfully in his chest feeling the needle puncture his neck, his mind swam with fearful thoughts; what was it that he had been stuck with? Was it an infected needle? Had he been injected with some sort of drug? Was it poison?

In the end it was pure basic survival instinct that won out over all else in Jared’s brain and body as he reached back over his head while scrambling and struggling desperately to get his feet under him and his body turned around. His fingers dug brutally into his attackers body, though where Jared was grabbing exactly he had no idea nor did he really care as long as he took the son-of-a-bitch down and not the other way around.

Some stunned part of his mind suddenly screamed at him that this was the madman who had killed Genevieve and a surge of adrenaline shot through Jared’s body, somehow enabling him to climb sloppily up off the floor and to his feet although throughout all the broken and stuttered movements it took to get there the assailant never once released his hold. In the end, Jared only managed to stand for all of a second before his legs crumbled out from under him. The cloth was pulled away from Jared’s face as soon as his knees crashed down against the floor but it didn’t help the strange feeling in his head to disappear nor did it seem to return his usual strength to his legs.

The room spun and then grayed out around the edges of Jared’s vision as pathetically he was reduced to simply kneeling there on the floor. His hands slowly lost their grip and slipped away from his attacker, arms hanging limply at his sides. His eyes rolled upward in his head and his lips parted, drool slowly oozing from the corner of his mouth as though he were no more than an infant. The room spun dizzily sending his body crumbling forward, face smacking down hard onto the blood soaked tiles as the blackness of unconsciousness engulfed him.

“You’re not as perfect as you think are you,” his attacker sneered, voice rough and hate filled.

“From where I’m standing, you actually seem rather pathetic and disgusting,” he mused.

“Oh and just so you know, your wife,” he snickered softly, “she suffered, a lot. And it was all because of you, Jared, all because of you…”

The black bronco sped into the driveway of Jared and Genevieve Padalecki’s home and screeched to a halt as it parked. Four Behavioral Analysis Unit officers, members of the FBI quickly filed out of the automobile without even bothering to turn off the engine, each of them with their weapon drawn and bullet proof vest in place. They cautiously made their way toward the front door even as another Bronco pulled up into the drive behind theirs and two more members of the team climbed out, both of them also with their weapon drawn and bulletproof vest securely fastened into place.

As the other two agents reached the door, Morgan looked over at Hotchner for the go ahead, at his nod Morgan kicked the door open and rushed inside, his gun poised and at the ready, pointing in each direction as he shouted, “Freeze, FBI!”

He continued further into the house cautiously, checking out each room as he went with the other members of the team filing in behind him and doing the same with other rooms.

“I got a body,” Prentiss called out from where she was crouched beside Genevieve’s prone form, her body half slouched and half leaning against the cupboards in the kitchen just as she’d been left when Jared released her to fight off their assailant.

Hotchner walked to the doorway of the kitchen, “About how long?” he inquired.

Prentiss shook her head then glanced up as Rossi made his way over, crouching down next to her. He reached out, pressing the back of his knuckles against Genevieve’s neck and looked up at Hotchner.

“About an hour? Body’s just barely cold,” he answered.

“House is clean,” Morgan announced as he and J. J. walked into the kitchen.

He glanced down at the body then lifted his attention to Hotchner, “Is that the wife, Hotch?”

Agent Hotchner nodded in response, his face set in firm lines of determination and aggravation.

“There seems to be no sign of Jared anywhere,” Reid announced as he walked up to Hotchner.

Hotchner turned his head toward the front door, “We were too late,” he surmised softly in disgust.

The local police and forensic team arrived a few minutes after Agent Hotchner had alerted them to what they’d found. He now walked toward the door of the home as those teams took over the crime scene. His own group followed his lead one by one as they spotted him heading toward the door where he paused and glanced back over his shoulder.

“I want the names of anyone who has had anything to do with this Brian Buckley Band and I want to talk to as many of them as I can. We need to question Brian as soon as we get back to the station, see if he knows anything; whether _he_ knows he does or not.”

“And someone needs to call both of the victim’s parents and let them know what’s happened here. And Morgan,” he muttered pausing in his words.

“Yeah, Hotch?” Agent Morgan inquired.

“Get Garcia to send us copies of the rapes and deaths of the other victims that were put online, have her locate exactly where they came from, let’s see if she can track our unsub down that way,” he commanded softly.

“Alright, no problem,” Derek Morgan confirmed.

“Reid, I want you to go over the videos Garcia sends us and what little else we have; see if you can see anything that we may have missed before,” Agent Hotchner directed.

“Alright,” Spencer Reid agreed with a nod as he slid his hands into his front pockets.

Agent Hotchner shook his head in aggravation as he gave a soft disgusted huff and stepped out the door, heading for the Bronco that he and Reid had arrived in.

Too late, they’d been too late and now another young man was going to pay the price for it.

A young woman already had.

Agent David Rossi stepped out the door and followed after Hotchner, “Aaron,” he called out causing Agent Hotchner to pause in his steps and turn around.

“Yeah?” Aaron inquired softly, his gaze darting away from Rossi’s.

“We’re doing the best we can,” Agent Rossi insisted gently with a nod.

Aaron turned his attention to David with a scoff, “We arrived too late,” he retorted, “Too late to protect these people and now that young woman in there is dead and her husband…” Aaron argued with a sigh.

He reached into his suit coat inner pocket pulling out his wallet, opening it he took out a small picture and handed it to David with a nod toward the photo.

David took the picture from Aaron’s fingers, his eyes squinting as he studied it.

“And now that young man has been taken by a serial killer,” he summarized with a shake of his head.

“That’s not the best we can do,” he corrected.

“He looks like a rock star,” Agent Rossi deduced as he lifted his eyes to Aaron, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Aaron turned his head, looking away from the elder Agent and struggled not to smile though a small snort of laughter left him despite himself. He turned his attention back to David and shook his head.

“That’s not the point,” he chastised as he reclaimed the photograph from Agent Rossi’s fingers.

“No, it’s not,” David agreed sagely as he eyed Aaron. “The point is that you have to let it go, just a little… or else you’re going to end up like Gideon,” he explained.

“Gideon cared more about these people than…” Hotchner began only to pause and press his lips together, looking away from Rossi.

“You mean that he cared so much he kept pictures of the latest victim in his wallet?” David asked pointedly.

Jared’s eyes snapped open as he drew in a startled breath through his nose realizing immediately that there was something secured in his mouth, keeping him from being able gasp in a sufficient amount of air or call for help. He automatically tried to move only to find that he was unable to and it seemed that it was due to more than just the cuffs holding him bound to whatever it was he was laying on that was the culprit for his lack of mobility as he couldn’t even turn his head which spun dizzily; and his vision also seemed to be somewhat out of focus.

As he lay there blinking to get his vision to clear he tried to remember what exactly had happened. He remembered finding Genevieve on the floor of their kitchen; thoughts of her blood drenched body slumped lifelessly against the very cabinets that she had picked out had tears burning his eyes though he fought them back, with only his nose to breath through he didn’t need to cry and have his sinuses swell. He recalled the moment that he’d been attacked and he remembered the prick of a needle in his neck. Drugged, he’d been drugged and whatever was in that syringe had to be what was making it impossible for him to move anything except for his eyes.

As his vision slowly cleared he noted that the room was plunged in near darkness, only a single source of dim light from above provided any illumination at all. His eyes widened and darted from left to right in an attempt get a look at his surroundings; he could sort of make out that the room was small, or at least it seemed that way. And the air inside that he was gulping in fearfully through flared nostrils was stale and thin. And the area as a whole gave off such a claustrophobic feeling that if he didn’t know better he’d swear that he had been buried alive causing his heart to hammer wildly in his chest and sweat to bead along his brow.

As much as he didn’t want to believe it, as much as the dim light above told him that it was impossible the mere thought that maybe this psychopath had buried him alive or even that he might still do it had Jared screaming against the gag in his mouth as loudly as he could even though just like the rest of his body, his vocal cords didn’t seem to be totally listening to the commands of his brain leaving him with only harsh grunts and hoarse screams that likely wouldn’t be heard by anyone that wasn’t standing right beside wherever it was he was at.

_‘Jensen! Oh God, Jensen, please… Where am I? Please, Jensen, I love you… I love you, Smeckles, find me, please find me... Jensen!!!’_

Jensen had called Jared’s cell all the way to the airport only to get no answer other than his voice mail on which Jensen had left an alarming amount of messages to the point that now when he called and no one answered it simply told him that the mailbox was full before going dead in his ear.

After rushing from the SUV when Clif dropped him off at the airport, Jensen hurried to the ticket counter. Two first class tickets to Los Angeles were swiftly purchased and within twenty minutes Jensen was boarding a plane headed back home.

“Hey, Danneel, it’s me, how are you, sweetheart?” Jensen greeted softly.

“Hi, Jensen!” Danneel replied excitedly, “I’m good. How are things there? Is everything going alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, works great,” he muttered, “Listen babe, I need you to meet me at the airport,” Jensen explained as calmly as possible while the plane taxied down the runway.

“Here, in LA?” she asked incredulously. “Jensen, what’s going on? I mean, I’m glad you’re coming home, but I thought…”

“I know, I know what I said,” Jensen cut her off, “but something’s happened and I need to come home.”

“What - what is it? Are you alright? What’s happened?” Danneel inquired worriedly.

Jensen sighed heavily, “It’s Jared, sweetheart,” he replied softly, “I think maybe something’s happened to Jared.”

“What!?” she exclaimed, “What’s happened? What is it, what’s wrong? Should I go over and…”

“No!” Jensen barked before taking a deep breath, his eyes slipping closed as he lifted his free hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No,” he repeated softly, “Steve called me, he said that there were FBI there looking for Jared and they said he might be in danger. I dunno what’s goin’ on, but I don’t want you goin’ anywhere near their house. At least not until we find out more.”

“Jared, oh my God…” Danneel gasped softly, eyes wide with shock and alarm.

She nodded to her husband’s directions, “Yeah, alright, okay,” she agreed. “Do - do you want me to at least call him? I mean, I could just see…” she offered.

“No,” Jensen cut her off, “I’ve been callin’ non-stop since I found out from Steve and I’m not getting’ an answer. I talked to him before that, but… I’ll be there soon and we’ll figure it out. Just sit tight till I get there and meet me at the airport, alright?

“Yeah, okay, of course, baby,” Danneel agreed.

“Good,” he breathed as he lowered his hand and the corners of his lips quirked upward just slightly, “I love you and I’ll see ya soon,” he murmured.

“Alright, Jensen, I love you too,” Danneel replied.

Hanging up the cell, Jensen turned his head toward Misha who sat in the seat next to his, “Least we got a ride,” he muttered softly.

Misha patted the back of Jensen’s hand that gripped the armrest with his own, “We’ll be there soon and we’ll make sure that Jared’s alright,” he encouraged softly.

The black Bronco pulled up outside the Ackles’ two story townhouse just moments after Danneel had hung up the phone from talking with Jensen. She was sitting on the couch, staring worriedly at the phone in her hand and contemplating whether or not she should go ahead and call Jared’s cell phone once more even though Jensen had told her that he’d gotten no answer all the times he had called prior when a knock sounded at the front door startling her out of her reverie. She turned at the waist, looking back toward the door and leaned slightly forward in an attempt to peer through the sheer white curtains covering the long narrow window alongside the door.

It appeared as though there were two men and two women that she had never seen before standing out on her front porch; all of them appeared to be official looking. With her brow creased curiously she pulled slowly up from the couch and stood to her feet then crossed the distance between herself and the front door. She glanced out the peephole and then looked again out the window next to the door.

“Can I help you?” she called through the closed door.

“FBI, ma’am,” replied the dark haired woman as she and the others pulled out their ID’s and flipped them open. “We’d like to have a word with you if that’s alright.”

Danneel bit her lip as she weighed that idea a moment glancing around her and Jensen’s home as though the answer as to whether or not Jensen would think it was a good idea might be imprinted on the walls somewhere.

“Um,” she muttered as she looked back toward the door.

With a shaky chuckle at how silly she was likely being, Danneel blew out a breath of resignation and reached for the handle with one hand and the deadbolt above it with the other, turning both the handle and the lock.

“Yeah, of course,” she replied as she pulled the door open, “come in,” she invited with a soft amiable smile.

Danneel closed the door once the four agents were inside then turned and walked back into the living room where they all stood waiting for her to join them.

“What - what’s this about?” she inquired with a small tentative smile, her gaze dating to each one of them in turn.

“Ma’am, you and your husband are friends with Jared and Genevieve Padalecki, are you not?” Agent Rossi asked.

Danneel gave a small breathy nervous chuckle, blinking away the confusion and fear that came along with that question due to what Jensen had already told her. “Uh, yes, yes, we are,” she confirmed.

“My husband and Jared are, uh, best friends I guess you could say,” she allowed lifting one hand to her forehead.

“Why?” she inquired as her eyes darted amongst the agents anxiously.

“Ma’am, you might want to sit down for this,” J. J. offered sympathetically.

Danneel stepped to the side away from them and back behind the coffee table as her dark eyes widened and she shook her head, “No, I don’t wanna sit down,” she argued even as her knees bent and she did just that, half collapsing onto the sofa while continuing to stare up at them.

“Ma’am, Genevieve Padalecki was murdered in their home early this morning after which it seems, the assailant kidnapped Jared,” Agent Morgan muttered gently.

Danneel’s eyes widened to near saucers as she gasped in a breath, tears immediately filling her eyes, “Jared, oh my God, oh my God,” she rambled as tears slid down her cheeks and she stared off in stupefaction.

Prentiss looked at J. J. who looked back at her, both of them rather confused by Danneel’s reaction. They glanced back at the men briefly before turning their attention to Danneel once more.

“We’d appreciate it, Mrs. Ackles if you could come down to the station with us, answer a few questions that might help us find Jared,” J. J. murmured.

Danneel seemed to shake herself out of her stupor enough to look up at J. J. as she sniffled.

“Uh, my husband, oh God I’ve got to tell Jensen…” Danneel muttered.

“It’s alright, we can take care of that later,” Agent Prentiss replied gently.

Danneel nodded and lifted a hand, wiping away her tears and the mascara from under her eyes.

“Uh, he was coming home, I need to pick him up at the airport soon,” she explained.

Agent Prentiss glanced up at Agent Morgan and Rossi, lips parted as if she were about to ask them what they wanted to do.

“We can have someone pick your husband up for you, ma’am,” Agent Morgan offered.

Danneel sniffled again and nodded, offering a forced wry smile, “You’re very kind,” she murmured before returning her attention to J. J. with a nod.

“Alright, may I get a jacket?” She inquired.

“Sure, I’ll just go with you and give you a hand,” offered J. J. with a small polite smile of her own.

Danneel nodded and carefully stood to her feet, making her way around the coffee table; she walked past them all and headed for the staircase while J. J. followed along behind her.

“Okay was it just me or was her reaction a tad off?” Agent Prentiss inquired softly once Danneel was out of earshot.

“Definitely wasn’t normal,” Agent Morgan agreed, his gaze fixed on the area where Danneel had disappeared off in.

“She completely dismissed Genevieve’s death and seemed to focus in on Jared. I’m thinking maybe there’s a little more than friendship going on between Mrs. Ackles and our victim,” Emily muttered.

“I dunno,” Rossi commented from where he stood off to one side of the living room, looking at a shelf full of pictures. “That’s not the story these pictures tell,” he responded.

Derek and Emily stepped over to the rack of framed photographs, their eyes moving over each one.

“Looks to me that if anyone was cheating with anyone it was Mr. Ackles with our victim, see the way they stand out and away from the wives?” Rossi pointed out.

“Yeah, and they seem to be touching an awful lot in all of them,” Emily deduced, glancing at Derek, “Like Derek and Garcia kind of touching.”

Derek scoffed, “Hey now,” he warned teasingly with a soft snicker as he shot Emily a playful scowl, “Besides,” he added with a shrug of one shoulder, “We’re not that bad.”

Emily frowned thoughtfully and quirked a brow, “Still, Rossi’s got a point, seems like there was something going on there. So why did _she_ get so upset?”

Rossi shrugged a shoulder, “Maybe she condones it,” he suggested.

Their conversation ended as Mrs. Ackles and J. J. returned from upstairs with Danneel now wearing a short cropped jeans jacket.

“Okay, I think I’m ready,” she announced softly as the two of them walked into the room.

The other three agents turned with a nod and lead Danneel out of her home and to the waiting Bronco out front.

“Are you finding anything?” Hotchner asked Reid as he walked into the conference room of the Los Angeles police department.

“Actually, yeah, I think maybe so,” Reid replied, rewinding the video to at a point during one of the rapes.

“There, do you see it, on his hip?” Reid exclaimed, pointing at the screen as he paused the tape.

Hotchner leaned against the desk, one hand palm flat against its surface as he stared intently at the screen.

“He’s scarred,” he muttered frowning thoughtfully before he glanced down at Reid who sat smirking up at him.

Hotchner nodded, “Good work, Reid,” he mumbled distractedly as his attention swung away from the screen and over to Prentiss, Rossi, J. J. and Morgan as they walked into the station with Danneel.

“Get Garcia on that, have her look for anyone that might have something to do with that Brian Buckley Band who was ever burned or knew someone who was,” Hotchner mumbled the order as he turned and headed out of the room without another word.

Reid nodded and reached for the telephone next to him on the table as he turned around to face the screen once more. Starting the video, his eyes tightened in concentration even as he dialed Garcia’s extension.

Walking out into the main area of the station, Hotchner made his way over to Danneel and offered his hand, “I’m Special Agent Hotchner, we just have a few questions we’d like to go over with you, ma’am,” he explained.

Danneel shook Agent Hotchner’s hand and nodded, “Anything that’ll help you find Jared,” she agreed.

Hotchner glanced over at his team who seemed to read the look on his face, the unspoken question as to whether they had told Danneel about Genevieve as well as about Jared, each of giving their own expression that let him know that they had told her but not to ask them about her reaction.

He turned his attention back to Danneel and nodded, “This way, ma’am,” he said and led the way back to one of the small rooms used for questioning.

As they walked toward the room they had planned to use to question Danneel in, the side door to the station opened and a female gasped and called out, “Danneel?”

Hearing her name, Danneel paused in her steps and looked across the police station, catching sight of Sandra McCoy being led in by two police officers.

“Sandy?” Danneel exclaimed, brow creasing in confusion as to what Jared’s ex-fiancé was doing there.

“Dani, what are you doing here?” Sandy inquired curiously.

Danneel shook her head even as her lips parted in an attempt to try to explain or ask Sandra what she knew, but words seemed to fail her and her bottom lip began to tremble while the threat of tears stung her eyes.

Hotchner pivoted on his heel, his gaze darting between the two women before turning his attention to his team, “Rossi and Emily, you take Mrs. Ackles. Morgan and J. J., the two of you go with Miss McCoy.”

The others nodded to his orders as Hotchner walked off in another direction, his face set in determined and pensive lines, glancing thoughtfully at Sandra as he walked past her.

“Would you care to follow us then, Mrs. Ackles?” Prentiss responded.

Danneel sniffled and sniffled before swallowing hard and clearing her throat, fighting back a fresh onslaught of tears.

“Uh, my husband…?” Danneel questioned hoarsely as her eyes darted worriedly from Prentiss to Rossi and back.

“Oh,” Prentiss muttered and turned her attention toward Hotchner’s retreating back.

“Hotch, Mrs. Ackles needs her husband picked up at the airport,” she called.

Hotchner paused in his steps and looked back toward Emily with a brow lifted curiously.

“Uh, we told her one of us would get him,” she explained tentatively.

Hotchner sighed heavily in annoyance before turning his gaze to Danneel and giving a nod, “I guess I’ll make a run to the airport then,” he responded curtly.

Danneel smiled graciously through her unshed tears and returned his nod, “Thank you, Agent Hotchner,” she murmured softly.

“Think nothing of it, ma’am,” Hotchner replied with a stern look shot Prentiss’ way before he turned and purposefully continued out of the room.

Prentiss looked over at Rossi, her lips pressed in a thin line as she lifted her brows before turning and leading Danneel into one of the rooms nearby.

J. J. grimaced as she looked over at Morgan offering a tight lipped smile before nodding toward Sandra. Drawing in a fortifying breath as this was quite obviously going to be a long day, the two of them headed toward where Sandra was still standing at the desk near the front entrance of the station.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What can you tell us about the Brian Buckley Band?” Morgan questioned Sandra.

His dark gaze bore intently on hers where she sat across the small table from him in one of the interrogation rooms.

“Well, we all back them,” Sandy offered simply.

She shrugged; confused as to what this was all about and totally uncertain as to what it was that Agent Morgan wanted to know. Had Brain done something?

“We?” J. J. inquired.

Sandy’s dark doe like eyes swung to the blonde haired woman sitting to Derek Morgan’s right.

She nodded, “Yeah, we’re all friends and so when we all kind of took a liking to the band and the people in it, we decided to back them, help them along. Ya know, use our own fan bases to get them some fans,” Sandy explained.

“You’re still friends with your married ex-fiancé?” Derek inquired, brows lifted in disbelief.

“Well, no,” Sandy began with a small wry smile, “But I am friends with a lot of Jared’s friends. He and I were together a long time and I’m not going to give up the friends that I made when I was with him just because we broke up,” she stated firmly.

Derek frowned thoughtfully and gave a small nod; he could understand that, though he wouldn’t let Sandra know it.

“Do you know of anyone who might want to hurt Jared?” J. J. inquired gently.

“What?” Sandra asked incredulously. “No,” she responded quickly, “Never!”

Her wide and panic stricken gaze darted between Agent Morgan and Agent Jareau.

“Why are you asking me that? Did something happen? Is Jared alright?” She demanded anxiously.

Morgan looked over at J. J. with a heavy sigh before he returned his attention to Sandra.

“Genevieve Padalecki was killed early this morning and we believe that the person responsible also abducted Jared,” he answered gently.

Sandy’s eyes dark eyes filled immediately with tears as she stared at Derek and slowly shook her head in denial.

“No,” she whispered brokenly.

“Who would do that?” she cried, her gaze darting to J. J. questioningly.

J. J. could only shake her head as she slowly lowered her eyes from Sandy’s distraught, probing ones.

“Oh God,” Sandy muttered, sniffling, “Jensen, someone has to call Jensen,” she rambled, her eyes widening again.

“Jensen?” J. J. inquired. “As in Mr. Ackles?”

Sandra looked incredulously over at J. J., “Yes, as in Ackles!” she nearly shouted.

“Oh my God, Jensen’s gonna be devastated,” she whimpered before breaking out in a fresh round of tears.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Were you close with the deceased, Mrs. Ackles?” Rossi questioned.

Danneel crossed her long legs as she sat in the chair across the room from Rossi and Emily, on the other side of a small table in yet another interrogation room.

“I dunno, define ‘close’,” she drawled with a shrug. “We were… _friendly_ ,” she allowed.

“Uh-huh,” Rossi muttered. “What about you and Jared?” he inquired.

Danneel smiled, “Jared and I are good friends,” she replied without hesitation.

“I see,” Rossi responded. “And what about your husband?”

“What about him?” Danneel inquired pleasantly with a lift of her brows.

“Was he… friendly with the deceased as well and yet good friends with Jared?” Rossi questioned, using her words.

“You could say that,” Danneel agreed with a nod.

“Mrs. Ackles were you having an affair with Jared Padalecki?” Emily Prentiss blurted.

Danneel’s eyes widened as she turned her attention to the brunette. She stared at the Agent a moment before starting to laugh.

“I‘m sorry,” she chuckled, shaking her head in amusement.

Doing her best to stifle her laughter she shook her head again and cleared her throat.

“No,” she answered at last. “I’m not having nor have I ever had an affair with Jared,” she replied, a smirk pulling at her lips, causing the rosy apples of her cheeks to show against her flawless porcelain complexion.

“What about your husband?” Rossi tossed in softly.

Danneel’s smile fell away and she lowered her eyes to the table. “It’s not like I don’t know about it,” she murmured softly. “No one is hiding anything from anyone,” she explained, “except of course the press.”

“Jensen and I have an adult relationship. We don’t need to cling to one another all the time and,” she paused and drew in a breath, “if he wants to include Jared in his life, who am I to say no?”

She lifted her gaze and her eyes darted between Prentiss and Rossi as she spoke, “I love my husband, Agents,” she said smoothly, “And he loves me… he just happens to love Jared too,” she said with a shrug of her shoulder.

“I actually consider myself lucky, Agents, I know that my husband would never cheat,” she replied, “He would never do that to Jared.”

Garcia was put in charge of getting a hold of Genevieve and Jared’s parents and asking them to come in to the station so that they could be given the news about their daughter and son respectively. Of course there were the obvious panicked questions from both parties at first but Garcia effectively edged such inquiries and managed to talk both sets of parents into agreeing to meet with Agent Hotchner. The parents of both of the victims had to be flown in from their respective home states of course; Genevieve’s from Idaho and Jared’s from Texas.

The Padalecki’s plane was due to arrive within the hour while the Cortese' plane was due to arrive just twenty minutes later and Jensen’s was due to arrive fifteen minutes after theirs; causing each of them to completely miss one another.

With his wife still inside the interrogation room with Rossi and Prentiss, Hotchner left to pick up Jensen Ackles from the airport roughly ten minutes after the last police cruiser departed from the station to pick up the victims parents.

While driving down byways and along the busy intersections that weaved throughout the downtown metropolis of Los Angeles, Agent Hotchner couldn’t help but think of the parents who he had yet to inform that their beloved daughter, whom they had likely believed would live a long and healthy life, had been the victim of a psychotic killer.

As devastating for those people as he was certain that was going to be, Hotch couldn’t help but feel an even heavier sense of dread and sympathy for the young man’s family due to his having to tell a father that his son had been kidnapped by an unsub that was not only a known sociopath but a sexual predator targeting young men with the same aesthetic qualities as his son.

In truth, he was somewhat thankful for the small reprieve offered to him before he had to face these two families while he went to pick up Mrs. Ackles husband, Jensen from the airport. He was thankful that breaking the news to Jensen regarding the travesties that had befallen the Padalecki’s would be much less dramatic, what with them being simply friends.

_“Grown don't mean nothing to a mother. A child is a child. They get bigger, older, but grown. In my heart it don't mean a thing.” ~ Toni Morrison_

Pulling the Bronco up to the loading curb outside the front glass double doors of the airport, Agent Hotchner turned off the engine and reached for the door handle. As soon as he climbed out of the SUV he was met by one of the baggage handlers who were about to tell him that he had to move his vehicle, that is until he flashed them his badge. After that, he received no further problems from anyone as he made his way toward the sliding doors. His eyes swept the exterior of the building for anything suspicious as he entered and walked over to the board announcing arriving and departing airlines, their times and locations. Once he found the flight number that Danneel had given them on one of the hundreds of monitor screens, he made his way toward the gate where the flight would be arriving.

Pulling out his cell once he was standing in front of the gate exit where he wouldn’t miss Mr. Ackles arrival, Hotchner scrolled down the list of preset numbers and pressed the button. It was only another couple of minutes after the call had been answered and he had been connected to Garcia that he had a recent photo on his cell of Mr. Jensen Ackles in order for him to know what exactly to look for and thus allowing him to be able to pick the young man out of the crowd without drawing undue attention.

“Thanks, Garcia,” he muttered and hung up his cell.

Tucking his cell back into the pocket of his expensive suit, Aaron’s head lifted slightly higher as his jaw clenched and his eyes continually surveyed the area around him.

“Jensen, you’re harder to keep up with than my son,” Misha complained as he hurried along after him.

He kept one hand lowered to his duffel bag, tucking it behind his hip in an effort to keep the bag from smacking him in the thigh as he nearly jogged through the airport in an effort to keep up with the Jensen’s fast pace.

“Yeah well, your son isn’t trying to weave in between people before they recognize who he is and get to his wife so he can find out what the hell is going on with his…his Jared Goddammit,” Jensen snarled in annoyance.

Misha halted dead in his tracks in an attempt to avoid colliding with a family who had suddenly come to a complete and utter stop in the middle of the walk way. His azure eyes widened as he glanced up from them, watching as Jensen continued toward the family without even seeming to slow down. He cringed and squeezed his eyes closed when it appeared as though Jensen might just bowl over an entire family. Thankfully however, when Misha peered out of one eye before opening them both, it was to find that somehow Jensen had totally missed the family that were still standing exactly where they had been, seeming none the wiser for the close call of nearly being plowed over. With a shake of his head and a muttered curse word under his breath, Misha dashed after Jensen, carefully dodging people who were walking both toward them and in the opposite direction.

If he hadn’t already had a pretty good idea all on his own all it would have only taken was a glance at his friend to see the kind of shape Jensen was in. His jaw was clenched so tightly it was a wonder his teeth weren’t all shattered and a muscle in his jaw twitched repeatedly. The knuckles of his hand that tightly gripped the strap of his carry on bag were so white that Misha wasn’t quite sure if they’d ever be able to pry Jensen’s hand off the damn thing and if they did manage it, he wasn’t completely certain that blood would ever fill the area again.

“Jensen,” Misha murmured softly as he reached out with one hand, catching hold of his friend’s bicep.

Jensen slowed his steps and finally paused with Misha, head hanging as they stood against one wall near the exit of the gate terminal. He lifted his head and turned it, his panicked gaze meeting Misha’s soothing blue eyes, anxiety and fear clearly written within the green depths of his own.

Misha shook his head, “This isn’t helping anyone, Jen,” he scolded gently. “If something did happen…then Jared’s gonna need you at the top of your game,” he reasoned, “Danneel and Genevieve too for that matter, hell most everyone you two know,” he continued gently.

Jensen lowered his gaze and nodded in acknowledgement as he squeezed his eyes closed and sniffled softly. Blowing out a breath he lifted his head and blinked open his eyes, lashes wet with unshed tears that glistened within the cat-like green hue of Jensen’s eyes.

“It’s hard, ya know?” he rasped softly, nodding to his own words.

Misha lifted his hand and squeezed his buddy’s shoulder, “I know, but I’m right here with ya,” he encouraged gently.

Jensen nodded again and breathed out a soft chuckle, “Thanks for that,” he murmured.

“You’re really tryin’ for that angel thing aren’t ya?” Jensen joked hoarsely.

Misha smiled, “Nah, I was actually likin’ the whole God idea better,” he replied with a waggle of his brows.

Jensen chuckled and sniffled as he shook his head, the two of them walking once more toward the area end of the gate.

“You realize if you go with the God thing you’ll have to change West’s name to Jesus,” Jensen commented.

Misha’s brow knitted as he frowned in mock confusion and looked over at Jensen, “Why would I change West’s name to Jesus’? We aren’t even Hispanic,” he responded with a perplexed shake of his head.

That actually got a bark of laughter from Jensen despite all of the anxiety he felt bubbling just below the surface.

Agent Hotchner lifted his attention from the cell phone that he held in one hand; the photograph of Jensen Ackles embossed across the screen of the cell. He’d been memorizing the young man’s face so that he’d be sure to be able to pick him out of the crowd. His eyes squinted slightly as Aaron’s gaze zeroed in on a young man leaving the terminal that matched the picture on his phone. He watched the young man for a moment, deducing that the dark haired individual next to him must in fact be with him, their friendly demeanor toward one another bespoke of a close friendship.

Tearing his gaze momentarily from the two younger men, Agent Hotchner glanced around at his surroundings once more, having been standing and watching people file out of the gate and head toward the loved ones that awaited them

For the Cortese' and the Padalecki’s there would be no loved ones awaiting them when they stepped out of the terminal, instead there would only be him and his team, waiting to tell them that their worst fears had become a reality.

Aaron drew in a deep fortifying breath, his lips pressing together in a thin line as he fought to push that nagging thought from his mind. Returning his attention to the two men who were now smiling as they walked together, Agent Hotchner squared his shoulders and lifted his jaw determinedly as he stepped out of the small alcove and into Jensen Ackles path.

“Mr. Jensen Ackles?” Hotch inquired although he already knew the answer.

Jensen came to abrupt halt as did Misha beside him. His mouth opened and his gaze swung briefly to Misha before returning to the man standing in front of him in the expensive designer suit.

“Who wants to know?” Jensen responded.

Misha couldn’t help the double take he took of Jensen or the smirk that teased at his lips at hearing Dean Winchester’s favorite comeback regarding inquiries to his identity come flying out of Jensen’s mouth without a script in front of him.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” he introduced himself, glancing from Jensen to Misha.

When he received only confused looks, Aaron went on, “With the BAU, Behavioral Analysis Unit,” he offered by way of better explaining who he was.

Jensen shook his head in confusion, “My wife…?” he inquired apprehensively.

“Your wife is fine,” Hotchner reassured. “She’s actually the one who asked me to come here,” he commented with a practiced amiable smile as his gaze darted between Jensen and Misha.

“She’s with members of my team right now at the police department,” Hotchner explained calmly. “I’ll take you to her,” he promised.

Jensen nodded as an audible breath of relief pushed past his lips and he squeezed his eyes tightly closed.

He swallowed hard as his eyes opened, a relieved smile teasing at his lips before his gaze met Aaron’s once more, “Jared,” he asked, “Where’s Jared? Is he alright?”

Aaron’s dark eyes darted pensively between the two men before settling on Jensen, “Uh,” he hesitated allowing his eyes to pointedly slide over to Misha before returning to Jensen’s once more.

Jensen blinked dumbfoundedly a moment before he nodded, “Oh, right, right, yeah, uh,” he stammered and glanced toward Misha, “This is Misha Collins, he’s a close friend of mine and Jared’s and he stars on the show with us,” he introduced.

Hotchner nodded to Misha in greeting before his gaze darted between the two of them, “Maybe we can find someplace more private where we can talk,” he suggested.

All trace of a smile fell away from Jensen’s lips as he turned his head, his distressed gaze meeting Misha’s concerned one briefly. They exchanged distraught looks of uncertainty and trepidation before returning their combined attentions to the Agent in front of them as Jensen nodded his acceptance.

Hotchner’s brows rose curiously as his dark gaze darted assessingly between the two of them before his attention zeroed in on Jensen and he returned the young man’s nod with one of his own.

“Just give me one minute,” Agent Hotchner muttered.

Aaron’s gaze swung away from Jensen as he stepped around the man and his eyes quickly scanned the area for someone official. Reaching into his suit jacket pocket, Agent Hotchner pulled out his badge as he purposefully crossed the distance between himself and one of the security officials.

Misha pivoted slightly on a heel as he watched the Agent walk away before turning his attention back to Jensen. With a hint of an encouraging smile just barely curling his lips, Misha lifted a hand and clasped his friend’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze as his sapphire eyes searched the depths of Jensen’s verdant green ones worriedly.

“Hang in there, man,” Misha murmured, “Jared’s gonna be okay,” he reassured gently.

The door above him swung open and Jared was forced to squint against the glare of watery sunlight, the type which shone down during rainstorms, as it poured into the small room in which he was being held. With his gaze focused apprehensively on his assailant, watching him pull the hatch-like door closed and begin descending the steps toward him. Jared struggled against the restraints that held his wrists and ankles securely bound to the table on which he lay in hopes that he might somehow break free and manage to escape; though it was all for naught as the ability to move at all had just begun to return to his limbs, rendering him far too weak for there to be any chance of him breaking free.

The hooded figure turned toward Jared as he stepped off the last rung in the ladder-like steps into the small claustrophobic room in which Jared lay. With the light once more dimmed down to almost nothing his assailant’s features were once again obscured to the point that there were nothing more than shadows and harsh lines as the man stood over Jared.

The man’s eyes narrowed with hatred and his head tilted curiously to one side as he regarded Jared, the corner of his lips curling upward into a droll smear.

“Are you afraid, Jared?” he inquired in a hoarse whisper.

The shocking revelation that his attacker actually knew him, knew his name caused Jared’s struggles to cease as he stared incredulously up at the man, his nostrils flaring with his heaving breaths, chest rising and falling heavily. He tried to speak despite the leather gag in his mouth, tried to ask how this man knew him, how he knew his name but his words were beyond distorted, tearing from his throat as nothing more than mere grunts and panicked mumblings.

The figure lifted a single gloved hand from his side, reaching out toward Jared’s face. He tenderly ran the back of a knuckle downward along Jared’s cheek in an almost loving gesture as his lips curled into a deranged smile. A soft mocking chuckle broke huskily from his assailant’s throat as Jared jerked disgustedly away from the bastard’s touch while eying the man apprehensively.

The man turned away from Jared and quickly crossed the short distance between himself and the rectangular shaped metal slab sitting against one wall. Gripping its edges, he pulled it back over to sit parallel next to the one on which Jared was securely fastened. He could feel Jared’s fearful gaze snap back to him once he had returned to his captive’s line of vision, the fact of which caused a pleased smile to curl his lips as he reached out with one hand and tugged the soiled sheet from atop the slab, revealing the implements of torture beneath.

At the cold cruel sneering smile that curled the bastard’s lips, Jared’s gaze darted swiftly toward the table that had been pulled over along side the one on which he lay. His eyes widened with trepidation and his nostrils flared more with his heavily panted breaths, chest and sides heaving with the force of each one as his panicked struggles resumed in earnest though still to no avail.

The assailant’s attention slid disdainfully to the side toward Jared though he continued going through the items on the table just as he had been, the corner of his lips still curved into a slight smug smirk. Purposefully plucking one of the implements off the table and stashing it into the pocket of the dark hued hoodie that he wore, he grabbed a large and dangerous looking hunting knife with his other hand and turned toward Jared. A depraved smile curled the sociopath’s lips, one that Jared couldn’t see as he lowered the blade of the large knife to Jared’s face, the tip hovering near the corner of his eye.

“I was an actor once,” he commented. “Pretty and perfect, just like you,” he rasped hoarsely.

“An’ I use to have ’em begging to be with me. Guys, chicks, sometimes one of each,” he mused with a shake of his head, “It didn’t matter. I could have had whatever I wanted,” he snorted, eyes roaming over Jared’s face.

“One of them even claimed to love…” he paused and scoffed disgustedly.

His hands began to tremble with rage and in his anger the tip of the knife the man held against Jared’s face bit into the hollow just under Jared’s eye, drawing blood.

Jared fought to not react to the sting of pain, only to lay as still as possible as he stared up at his attacker.

“She was a pretty little bitch, but still just a bitch, it’s all she was and all she would’ve ever been,” he rambled hoarsely as he choked back emotion, feelings which only seemed to cause him to grow angry.

His teeth clenched and his hand that grasped the hilt of the knife trembled causing the tip of the blade to press hard against the tender skin of Jared’s face.

His gaze lowered though it was hard to tell from beneath the hood covering his head, “She took one look at me after what happened and…” he scoffed.

“So I killed her,” he admitted stoically.

He lifted his gaze and squared his shoulders, returning his full attention to Jared as he lifted the knife, allowing the tip to hover over Jared’s face with a crazed smile curling his lips.

“And now, it’s your turn,” he muttered apathetically.

Eyes wide with alarm, Jared struggled harder, arms and legs tugging against the restraints holding him immobile while panicked screams ripped from his throat only to be muffled against the gag.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serial killer is targeting dark haired muscular male actors. When Jared is kidnapped and his wife brutally murdered in their home, it’s the men and women of the FBI’s BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit)’s job to figure out how to find him before Jared joins this mad man’s growing list of deceased victims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve Cortese-Padalecki DIES in this fiction. If you are a Fan of Genevieve's you may wish to PASS on this fiction. PLEASE BE ADVISED. 
> 
> Fiction was written for the CROSS BIG BANG on LiveJournal in 2012. 
> 
> A special thanks goes to Jeff Davis for the creation of Criminal Minds, the set up and some of the words used within this fiction. A special thanks also goes out The Mark Gordon Company and CBS Television/ABC Studios. 
> 
> As for the fiction itself, I realize I am crossing genres here, however I couldn’t see this as a Supernatural/ Criminal Minds crossover - it just didn’t fit with how the victims in Criminal Minds usually are. I hope that regardless of that fact you enjoy the story told herein. **Note:** Author has taken liberties with some of the information in this story, please be advised.

After Aaron finished with his call to Agent Rossi regretfully asking the senior SSA if he would in his absence inform the Padalecki and the Cortese families of what was going on; Agent Hotchner, Jensen and Misha were led into a secure lounge located down a long corridor to the left of the escalators which led down into the baggage claim area. As they entered the room Aaron turned to the two rather apprehensive looking men and lifted his brows, jutting his chin toward their bags. 

“Either of you have luggage that needs to be picked up?” he inquired. 

His gaze darted pointedly to the men who stood beside him, “These gentlemen have offered to go get it for you if you do,” he explained. 

Misha and Jensen both shook their heads, having become rather efficient at packing light, stuffing everything that they needed into one small bag. Dean and Sam Winchester would be proud. 

With a nod of thanks to the two sky caps beside him as well as the three security officers across the room, who had led helped them into the room; Hotchner saw the airline workers out and closed the door. Once he had the door closed and locked for their security, he turned and with an amiable nod, motioned with one hand toward the sofa and chairs. 

“Please, have a seat,” he offered. 

Agent Hotchner followed his own advice and as Jensen and Misha turned toward the wide leather couch, he took the opposite route and headed toward the matching leather chair which sat directly across the small room, taking a seat on the edge. He waited until both of the other men took a seat on the sofa facing him; Jensen perched on the edge, his anxious stance mirroring Aaron’s vigilant one while Misha’s pose, although he leaned forward with his forearms braced against his thighs, was somewhat more relaxed. 

Hotchner’s dark gaze darted assessingly between the two men before he spoke, slightly taken aback by the amount of tension that seemed to be rolling off Jensen in waves. It was enough to have Agent Hotchner wondering about the extent of young man’s relationship with the victim. 

Lowering his gaze as he pressed his lips together, brow creasing at the tangle of riotous thoughts running through his head, Aaron cleared his throat before lifting his eyes once more, meeting Jensen’s anxious verdant ones.

“Early this morning Genevieve Padalecki’s body was found murdered in her home,” he began, his voice calm, practiced. 

He paused and his gaze moved between the two men as he sighed out a breath and lowering his gaze, the pre-dawn scene flashing before his eyes. 

Jensen glanced fearfully over at Misha, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and pooling within their leaf green depths.

Misha gave a small shake of his head as his azure gaze met Jensen’s and he reached blindly for Jensen’s hand, glancing down only long enough for him to capture Jensen’s hand within his own. Lifting his eyes back to Jensen’s he gave his hand a gently reassuring squeeze as his lips curled into a soft encouraging smile. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” he promised on a whisper. 

Hotchner’s eyes lifted and his narrowed measuring gaze shifted between Jensen and Misha before he continued.

“Upon a sweep of the home it was determined that Jared Padalecki was no where to be found,” he started. 

“What?” Jensen demanded, shooting immediately to his feet. “What do you mean he was no where to be found? I had just talked to him, _at home_!”

Misha stood along side Jensen, his sapphire blue gaze darting anxiously between his friend and the Agent across from them. 

Jensen’s movement caused Agent Hotchner to follow suit, standing across from him, his features remaining placid and professional, “We have reason to believe Mr. Padalecki was abducted by the same person who murdered his wife,” he responded. 

“Abducted!” Jensen shouted incredulously. 

Jensen’s jaw clenched, the muscle in it twitching as he turned his head to the side his eyes squeezing closed. He hung his head and lifted the hand not grasping tightly onto Misha’s and curled it into a fist, pressing it to his pursed lips, his brows furrowing deeply as he struggled with the overwhelming feelings of heartsickness and panic that churned inside him. 

With a sniff, Jensen cleared his throat as he lowered his fisted hand and lifted his head, eyes opening. He drew in a fortifying breath then blew it slowly out as he returned his attention to the Agent across from him. 

“He was fine, they’d just gotten home and he was drunk but,” Jensen argued gently, his sentence trailing off as he shook his head, unshed tears once again burning his eyes. 

Aaron’s brows lifted curiously at the news that Jared had been intoxicated. That being the case, if there was enough alcohol in his system it could have made him easier to manipulate and in so being, an easier target. Of course there were also other drugs that if he had been given, say without his knowledge, when combined with the alcohol that he had already ingested could be used to subdue a person. 

Recognizing Jensen’s despondency, Agent Hotchner turned his attention away from the young man and to the case. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell phone as he turned away from the two men. His head bowed and his shoulders slumped slightly, the gesture an attempt to block himself off from others as he quickly scrolled down the list of preset numbers in his phone, pressing the one that he needed. 

“Garcia,” he replied as the call was answered, even before Penelope had the chance to greet him. 

“Sir?” She replied. 

“I need you to look into the other victims’ medical reports, see if the autopsies said anything about their having been intoxicated or drugged at all,” he commanded. 

“Yes, sir,” she replied automatically before inquiring, “We think they were drugged?” 

“Garcia,” Agent Hotchner admonished sternly. 

“Sorry, sir,” Penelope mumbled. “I’ll get right on that.” 

Aaron gave a nod of approval that Penelope Garcia would never see as he pulled the cell from his ear and flipped it closed. 

Turning his attention from the Agent to Jensen, Misha sighed dejectedly as he caught sight of the single tear that slowly made its way down his friend’s cheek. With a shake of his head, he stepped closer Jensen and around him, so that he faced Jensen. He slipped his hand free of Jensen’s as his concern filled azure eyes searched Jensen’s verdant ones before reaching up with the hand that Jensen had been holding, wiping away the salty track his friend’s tear had made down his cheek. He offered Jensen a small encouraging smile as he reached for him and wrapped his arms around him, holding Jensen close. 

“Shh, it’s okay, Jen,” Misha murmured gently. “We’re gonna find Jare and he’s gonna be fine, you’ll see,” he soothed. 

His business call ended, Hotchner released a tense breath and squared his shoulders as he lifted his head and turned back around to face Jensen and Misha, brow knitting as his evaluative gaze moved over the two men critically. Pressing his lips tightly together, Hotch lowered his gaze; head bowing slightly before he looked up at the Jensen and Misha from under his brows. 

“Gentlemen,” he began gently. 

Misha pulled his head back and his intense blue eyes bore into Jensen’s green, it wasn’t until he was satisfied that Jensen was holding his own, at least for the time being that, he relinquished his hold around his friend. Misha’s hands slid down Jensen’s arms to his hands and he gripped them firmly but gently as he turned to face the Agent. 

Hotchner waited until he was certain that he had the attention of both men before he gave a barely there nod of acknowledgement, offering a practiced smile as his gaze flickered between Misha and Jensen. 

“If you’ll both come with me,” Aaron directed politely.

Turning toward the door with the last of his words, he walked across the short distance separating himself from it and reached for the handle, turning back the deadbolt and unlocking the door. Once it was unlocked he turned the handle and pulled open the door. Stepping out, he paused just outside and held the door open for Jensen and Misha.

“Maybe if that damn son of yours would have taken better care of our little Genny none of this would have happened!” Mrs. Cortese accused angrily. 

“How dare you blame this on our boy,” Mrs. Padalecki gasped, “He has done nothing but be good to Genevieve,” she spat. 

“Funny, the way I saw and heard it most of the time he was busy chasing along after that Ackles boy,” Mrs. Cortese spat disgustedly. 

Mrs. Padalecki gaped at Mrs. Cortese, “I’ll have you know that Jensen and our boy have been friends for years,” she retorted angrily, “Which is somethin’ your daughter knew coming into this,” she scoffed indignantly. 

“I’m sure if she’d realized that Jared’s… _relationship_ with that boy was going to be the death of her, she would have reconsidered,” sneered Mrs. Cortese.

“And just what the hell are you trying to imply about our son?” Mrs. Padalecki snarled. 

“I’m not _implying_ anything, Sharon,” Mrs. Cortese replied contemptuously. 

Mr. Cortese nodded his agreement, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he patted his wife’s thigh. 

Mrs. Padalecki gasped again, her eyes widening with shock at the unspoken accusation from the Corteses'. 

Mr. Padalecki‘s eyes narrowed into angry slits as his eyes met Mr. Cortese' a moment before he shot to his feet, “Why you son of a--” Mr. Padalecki growled, jaw clenched with rage and hands curled into tight fists. 

“That’s good,” Danneel interrupted as she stepped between the two families. 

She turned her head and looked up into Mr. Padalecki’s eyes as she placed one hand against his chest and lightly pushed back against him in an attempt to stop the man and get him to back up; to keep him from doing anything he might regret later. 

Once she felt the tension that had radiated off Mr. Padalecki in waves ease a bit she turned her attention to Mr. and Mrs. Cortese, her chocolate brown eyes narrowed in loathing as she looked at the couple and caught the unmistakable glint of judgment in their eyes as they eyed her up and down disgustedly. 

“That’s good,” she repeated softly with a nod, “because what is or isn’t between Jared and my husband has nothing to do with what this sick bastard did,” she reasoned. 

Mrs. Cortese scoffed, “Or maybe if you satisfied your man he wouldn’t go lookin’ to my daughter’s husband for his needs,” she suggested cruelly. 

Danneel’s eyes narrowed into hate filled slits, “Or maybe if your daughter hadn’t been such a frigid bitch Jared wouldn’t have come to us,” she suggested with exaggerated sweetness, eyes wide with feigned innocence. 

Mrs. Cortese gasped and her husband sprang to his feet, “You…” he sneered hatefully as his hands clenched into tight fists. 

Danneel lifted her head and squared her shoulders, _‘Hit me, you son of a bitch,’_ she goaded in her mind already counting up the charges she could slap on this asshole faster than he could pull his fist back. 

“No!” Derek Morgan shouted, “Hold it right there! Don’t you touch her,” he yelled as he quickly crossed the room and inserted himself between the Cortese' and the Padalecki’s and Mrs. Ackles. 

“Everyone just calm down,” he ordered. 

His head pivoted, jaw clenched in anger as his gaze surveyed the room for anyone else who might want to try to start anything. 

Hotchner, Jensen and Misha had just entered the police station and were in the process of walking toward the back offices that the Las Angeles police department had given to the BAU when the last of the heated argument had met their ears causing the three of them to quicken their steps toward the door of the larger conference room. 

“Is there a problem in here?” Hotchner questioned, his gaze moving from person to person as he stepped into the room, brow quirked and jaw clenched indignantly. 

“And just who the hell is this son of a bitch?” Mr. Cortese snapped. 

“Uh,” J. J., began with a glance toward Hotchner, cutting off his retort, “Uh, this would be the, _son of a bitch_ who is going to find the person responsible for killing your daughter,” she responded pragmatically.

Prentiss brows shot up to her hairline as her gaze darted between J. J., Hotchner and the victims parents while Rossi and Reid both turned their heads away in near unison, attempting to hide the smirks that curled their lips despite how they fought to stifle them. 

“Elmo,” called Jensen anxiously to his wife as he rushed past Agent Hotchner and into the room. 

Danneel’s eyes widened and she gasped softly, a wide smile slowly curling her lips as she turned toward the sound of her name being spoken in her husband‘s voice, “Jenny Bean!” she exclaimed before starting toward him. 

Jensen sighed in relief as his attention locked onto his wife and together they crossed the distance separating them from one another. Each immediately wrapped their arms around the other as they met in the near center of the room; lips pressing against lips in a lingering although chaste and tender kiss.

Misha sauntered in behind the couple, brows raised and a slight smile curling his lips upward as his azure gaze moved over the occupants of the room. 

“I had a big entrance planned too, but…” he said with an exaggerated playful shrug.

Prentiss chuckled at Misha as did J. J., the two ladies glancing across the large conference table at one another while Derek and Rossi snickered; Reid however looked slightly confused as he lifted his brows confoundedly at Misha which of course only added to the amusement of the others. 

Hotchner took note of none of this however as his attention focused in on Mr. Cortese and his distress over the death of his daughter, something that no one could fault the man for. What was illogical was placing the blame anywhere other than where it lay, with Genevieve’s attacker. What made this crime even perhaps even more tragic was the fact that Genevieve’s death was incidental; she was mere collateral damage. _She_ was not the unsub’s main target, she just happened to have gotten in his way. 

“I regret not having been the one to inform you and your wife about your daughter’s tragic death,” Aaron offered the practiced apology. 

His attention swung to Agent Rossi and back to Mr. and Mrs. Cortese, “I trust that in my absence Agent Rossi was able to break the news gently as possible to you both,” he murmured, glancing from one Cortese to the other. 

Mrs. Cortese, who appeared to be young enough to be her husband’s daughter and not his wife gave a teary and practiced smile of her own as she nodded, “He’s a very kind man,” she allowed softly. 

Agent Hotchner gave a nod of understanding to the grieving woman in front of him, his own features emotionless though his gaze darted briefly to the elder Agent before returning once more as he gave a practiced and polite nod. 

Turning on his heel, Hotchner walked toward the large conference table near where Agent Rossi stood. 

“Has anyone questioned Mr. Buckley yet?” he inquired sternly. 

Jensen’s brow creased in confusion as he looked from Misha to Danneel before his gaze swung over to the Agent, still perplexed as to why they were questioning Brain Buckley since no one seemed to have been able to tell him that yet. 

David Rossi’s eyes widened just slightly and he glanced over at Prentiss before returning his attention to Hotch. His eyes closed as he pressed his lips together and gave a small curt shake of his head that no one had questioned the man. 

“Uh, yeah, I did,” Reid responded with a nod as he lifted a hand. 

Rossi’s eyes snapped open; slightly taken aback that Dr. Spencer had questioned the man. His brows lifted as his attention swung to the Reid, the corners of his lips curling downward curiously. 

Agent Hotchner eyed Reid a moment before he nodded, “And?” he inquired, “What’d you think?” he inquired, quirking a brow. 

“Eh,” he mused with a slight shrug, “He seemed tedious, arrogant and most definitely self absorbed,” he replied with a frown before shaking his head, “but it seemed very doubtful to me that he’s our unsub,” he concluded. 

“Why?” Aaron demanded. 

Reid pressed his lips together thoughtfully as he thought back to his meeting with Brian Buckley. 

“He lacks the discipline murders like these require. The unsub is obsessive enough to remove all forensic evidence and there seems to be an arranged pattern to everything that our he does, from who he takes to what he does with them once he has them. Buckley lacks this sort of forethought and ingenuity.” 

His brow knitting thoughtfully, “If he’s involved, I would put him as more of a secondary assistant, perhaps someone who brings the victims to our unsub rather than his being the actual perpetrator.”

“Like through the concerts,” Derek surmised. 

Reid nodded, “It’s possible,” he allowed. 

Hotchner turned his attention to David Rossi and lifted his brows, “I take it both sets of parents were informed regarding what’s happened?” 

“Uh, I was actually I was just getting to telling the Padalecki’s about their son when,” Rossi pressed his lips together and he gave a slight one shouldered shrug, “As you heard when you came in.” 

Hotchner’s brows rose, one quirking just slightly with irritation. His lips pressed tightly together, muscle in his clenched jaw twitching as he gave a small curt nod to Agent Rossi. Any other time he would have requested that the Cortese family be escorted out of the room however after what he had walked in on, not to mention what was going on behind him as he turned bodily around to face the two families, perhaps it would be for the best if he allowed both parties remain and hear what he was about to say. 

“I don’t understand why they are even allowing you to be here,” Mrs. Cortese spat, glaring contemptuously at Jensen. 

Jensen and Danneel had taken a seat together across the room from Mr. and Mrs. Cortese and to the right of the Padalecki’s. They were joined directly by Misha, the three of them sitting down where Danneel had been prior to Jensen’s arrival, next to Sandra McCoy who remained silent for the most part, wiping at her tearful dark eyes on the tissue that Agent Rossi had offered her upon her arrival into the room. 

“Ma’am, I understand that you’re upset by what happened to Genevieve, but I have as much right to be here as you do,” Jensen retorted. 

Mrs. Cortese harrumphed and rolled her eyes, “I highly doubt that,” she scoffed. “I don’t even know why they’re here,” she sneered with a nod toward Mr. and Mrs. Padalecki, eying them hatefully. “We certainly don’t want them here.” 

“What I want to know is where Jared is,” Mrs. Cortese spat disdainfully. 

Jensen’s eyes widened incredulously and his brow furrowed in confusion, unable to believe that the woman was this clueless regarding everything that had happened. 

“And I am about to tell you,” Hotchner interrupted. 

His stern gaze swung from Mrs. Cortese to Jensen and back before he turned his attention to the Padalecki’s. 

“I regret that Agent Rossi was interrupted and unable to relate any news to you regarding your son when the Cortese’ were given the news about their daughter, however, I’m going to take care of that right now,” he began pragmatically. 

“Yes, please,” Mrs. Padalecki coaxed, “We’ve been waiting to hear about our Jared,” she explained anxiously as she reached for her husband’s hand. 

“We believe that Jared was actually the unsub’s intended target,” Agent Hotchner explained with a glance toward the Cortese’ family before returning his attention directly to the Padalecki’s. 

Mr. Padalecki shook his head in confusion, “Our Jared was actually what…?”

“Unsub,” Hotchner supplied, “Unknown subject.”

Mr. Padalecki nodded as he skeptically eyed the Agent, “Yeah, okay, this _unsub_ ,” he allowed. 

“My boy being his intended target, what exactly does that mean?” he inquired. 

He paused in his words and lowered his gaze to his wife, Sharon when she inched fearfully closer to him while biting back the sob that welled up in her throat. 

“My poor little boy,” she whispered brokenly. 

Bottom lip trembling with emotion, she lifted a hand and cupped it over her mouth while tears filled her eyes, one of which escaped to roll down the side of her cheek. 

“Is my boy dead, Agent Hotchner?” Mr. Padalecki inquired bluntly. 

A muscle in Agent Hotchner’s jaw twitched though otherwise his features remained stoical.

“I regret to inform you that sometime early this morning, just after Genevieve’s death, your son was abducted,” Aaron replied proficiently. 

Brow creased in confusion, Mr. Padalecki shook his head, “Abducted? What the hell do you mean, abducted?” he asked incredulously.

He glanced over at the Cortese’ before returning his attention to Agent Hotchner, “You mean to tell me that this - this _unsub_ of yours was out to kidnap my boy all along?” 

Aaron nodded, “We believe so yes, he fit’s the same criteria of the past victims,” he explained. 

“So our Genny died just so this son of a bitch could kidnap Jared?” Mr. Cortese concluded. 

“Yes we believe so,” replied Hotch. 

“So our Jared is alive?” Sharon Padalecki inquired hopefully. 

Agent Hotchner straightened his shoulders and a muscle twitched in his jaw as he struggled with the best way to answer the question.

Noting Hotchner’s hesitation, Reid rounded the table and walked forward toward where the anxious couple was sitting. 

“Statically speaking ninety percent of all abduction victims are killed within the first thirty six hours,” he supplied earnestly. 

“Taking that into account, Jared should still have another twenty four to twenty six hours,” he offered constructively with a thoughtful frown. 

In the stunned silence that seemed to fill the room due to his words, Reid forced his lips to curl into a small nervous tight-lipped smile as he lowered his gaze awkwardly. He gave a timid curt nod of his head before he turned away from the couple and headed back across the room. 

“I think what my colleague, Dr. Reid is try to say is that in all likelihood we should be able to find your son before anything like that happens,” Hotchner clarified. 

“You’re gonna find Jare before this time tomorrow?” Jensen inquired. 

The sound of the young man’s voice drew Hotchner’s attention, having nearly forgotten about him after having to deal with the bickering parents. 

His gaze moved discerningly over the young man, noting how his wife and his friend had taken seats flanking him before he nodded in answer to his inquiry. 

“We are going to do everything within our power to bring Jared safely back,” he replied proficiently. 

Mr. Padalecki nodded as he lowered his gaze dejectedly. It was another moment or two that the couple sat comforting one another before he and Sharon pulled collectively to their feet. His arm was wrapped protectively around his wife as Mr. Padalecki lifted his eyes to Aaron’s, and he gave the Agent a dejected, tight lipped and curt nod. 

“If you find anything, Agent,” he began hoarsely as he fought back emotion, “you let us know,” he muttered. 

His gaze swung to J. J. and he gave a slight, respectful nod, “I gave that sweet girl there our hotel information earlier.” 

Hotchner offered a practiced tight lipped amicable smile as he nodded, “I will,” he promised. 

J. J. smiled softly at the couple as they headed toward the door, pausing long enough to shake Agent Hotchner’s hand. 

“And when you finally catch the bastard who killed our little girl, you let us know,” Mr. Cortese said as he stood to his feet, pulling his wife up along side him. 

Hotchner nodded, “Yes, sir, I will,” he replied. 

A hush fell over the room until the door closed behind both sets of parents. It was then that Aaron drew in a fortifying breath and returned to the issues at hand. 

“Did we release Mr. Buckley or are we still holding him?” He asked as he turned his attention to his team. 

Hands stuffed in his pockets, his lips pressed tightly together, Reid shrugged and offered a crafty little smile as he bounced on the balls of his feet, “We have the right to keep him twenty four hours and since he is one of the things that tie all of our victims together it seemed that detaining him for some of those would be useful.” 

One of Jensen’s hands gripped Danneel’s tightly as he stood to his feet. Misha reached out and gripped Jensen’s hip in a gesture of encouragement as he turned to face the members of the BAU. 

“Can you please explain something to me?” he beseeched gently. 

Hotchner gave a nod as he lifted his head and squared his shoulders, “What would you like to know?” 

“Well, for one thing why are you holding Brian, he’s Jared’s friend?” Jensen began, “And…”

He blinked back the tears of frustration that burned at the corners of his eyes and caused his lip to tremble slightly before he managed to swallow back the emotions overwhelming him, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

“And what the hell are you people doing in order to catch this bastard before he kills Jared?” he growled. 

He glanced back at Danneel despondently before returning his attention to the Agents, “Has anyone even taken care of Sadie and Harley?” 

“Sadie and Harley?” Hotchner inquired, brow knitted in confusion. 

“Jared’s dogs,” Jensen replied. 

Danneel, Misha and Sandy all stood along with Jensen, their wide eyed gazes on the roaming over the Agents before them. 

“Those dogs were Jared’s babies,” Sandy offered gently. 

Prentiss stepped forward, her gaze darting between each person in front of her as she thought back when she Derek and Rossi had all raced at the Padalecki home and shook her head, “We found no dogs when we searched the premises,” she replied. 

“More than likely they were let out,” Reid suggested as he looked between Jensen, Danneel, Misha, Sandy and Prentiss. 

“If the unsub didn’t want to attract the kind of attention to the house that barking dogs would raise, the logical thing to do would be to rid the property of the source of the disturbance.”

“We’ll alert the local animal shelters, see if there were any new dogs brought in in the last few hours that match the breed that Jared owned,” he replied. 

“You wouldn’t have a picture of the dogs…?” he inquired, glancing between Jensen, Misha, Sandy and Danneel. 

The four of them quickly checked their things, Jensen and Misha their wallets and the woman their purses. 

“Yeah,” Jensen replied, “I have something.” 

He pulled a photo out from one of the sleeves and held it out to Hotchner as he stepped toward him. 

Taking the photo from Jensen, Hotch studied the picture of Jensen and what he recognized from other photos as Jared sitting in what looked to be a park along with the dogs in question. 

He glanced curiously up at the young man’s face, “You’re alright with us showing this around the station?” he inquired with a quirked brow. 

Jensen nodded, “Yeah, anything that’ll help bring Jared’s babies home,” he responded firmly. 

Agent Hotchner nodded, “We’ll ask the officers patrolling the Padalecki’s neighborhood to keep an eye out for the dogs,” he responded decisively. 

Jensen nodded his understanding; there really wasn’t much more that he could ask them to do for the dogs than that. 

“As for why we’re holding Mr. Buckley, Jensen,” Prentiss began, her dark eyes darting briefly between the two Agents Hotchner and Morgan who flanked her before focusing completely on Jensen. 

“Each of the victims were at one of his concerts the night they went missing,” she explained.

Jensen’s eyes widened in shock at the same moment that Danneel and Sandy both gasped in unison. 

“If that son of a bitch had anything to do with this…” Jensen started to growl only to have Misha cut him off as he stepped around in front of him. 

Lifting both of his hands, Misha placed them against Jensen’s chest as he leaned in and murmured soothingly to him. 

“C’mon, Jen, calm down. We don’t know if Brian had anything to do with this or not,” Misha gently chastised, “Just hang in there, man. Be strong.” 

“Now that we’ve got a good idea how these killings are happening, enough for a profile, we need to get it out there,” Hotchner directed gently. 

J. J. nodded and pulled her hip away from leaning against the edge of the table, “I’ll set that up,” she murmured, offering both Hotch and Jensen a small polite and practiced smile as she walked past them and toward the door. 

Hotchner gave a nod of acknowledgement as he watched J. J. walk past before returning his attention back to Jensen.

“Uh, Hotch, could we speak to you for a minute in private?” Prentiss inquired.

Her gaze slid briefly from Aaron over to Jensen and the others before returning as she lifted his brows earnestly. 

“Uh,” Agent Hotchner began with a brief glance at Jensen, “sure,” he agreed with a slight nod as he returned his attention to Prentiss, lips curved into forced tight lipped smile. 

Turning his attention to Jensen and the others Agent Hotchner offered a polite nod, “Excuse me a moment,” he muttered gently. 

Jensen and Misha nodded almost numbly while Danneel tightened her grasp on her husband’s hand and Sandy moved in closer to Danneel. 

“Sure, yeah,” Jensen mumbled distractedly. 

Hotchner gave another curt nod and turned with a nod toward the back door of the conference room, his gaze darting to and meeting Prentiss’. 

Prentiss’ eyes slid to Rossi who looked over at Morgan with a lift of his brows. 

“How about if I get these four some coffee while you guys talk?” he suggested. 

His gaze moved to Jensen and the others, offering them an amicable smile, “No one has stronger or worse coffee than a police station,” he promised jokingly. 

Rossi’s joke fell mostly flat, not that he had expected anything less, though he did managed to get small polite smiles from both of the ladies. Jensen however only gave a forced twitch of his lips before giving a slight curt nod and hanging his head. Misha glanced Rossi’s way before moving to comfort Jensen, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he stepped closer and leaned in, whispering soothing encouragements in his ear. 

As his gaze moved over the two men, Rossi’s brows creased momentarily before he forced his look of confused curiosity away, plastering a smile on his face. 

“Alright then,” he muttered nearly under his breath as he pulled open the glass door. 

“Hotch,” he called as he paused and his gaze swung over to the agent, “Since I’ve already been updated on our findings, just let me know if you need me.”

Agent Hotchner gave a slight nod to Rossi as once again, just like the airport, his own gaze moved discerningly over Jensen and Misha. He offered Misha a slight nod mingled with a tightlipped and professional smile as the man’s azure gaze briefly met his dark one. Despite lowering his gaze, Aaron’s attention remained on the foursome as they followed Agent Rossi over to the front set of glass double doors and out. 

Lifting his eyes and turning toward the others once the doors swung softly closed behind the last of them, Aaron’s gaze moved over his team. 

“I take it that all of you noticed the level of intimacy there seems to be between Mr. Ackles and his friend Mr. Collins,” he remarked pointedly. 

“Huh,” Prentiss muttered, brow creasing as she frowned thoughtfully. 

Her gaze was fixed on the scene playing out on the other side of the conference room window. Her dark eyes tracking the two men who were still huddled close together as well as the two women who followed along behind them as Agent Rossi led all of them down the hallway toward the break room. 

“Funny,” she mused as she tore her attention away from what was happening in the hall, her gaze swinging over to Agent Hotchner, “Derek and I were just about to tell you about Mr. Ackles’ affair with our victim.”

Minutes later J. J. had everything set up for their conference within the department so that the team could give the L. A. P. D. something to work with. Everyone in the department on duty at the time crowded into the conference room that the BAU had been given to work in. And now they were all sitting down in chairs or on tables or leaning up walls as they listened to the team give a run down of what they were dealing with. 

“Now we all know about the horrific deaths that get shown on the web, the murder of a journalist, the stoning of an Iranian dissident, those murders are immortal,” Derek said as his gaze swept the room. 

“And this unsub craves that same immortality,” Hotchner cut in. 

“He recognizes his own face on his victims. His kidnapping them is a way of saying this is what I look like,” Reid explained. 

“It has been noted that our unsub has burn scars on his body. With the type of mutilations that are being done to his victims despite the lack of actual burns leads us to believe that our unsub received these scars in some sort of accident in which he was made to suffer. It is that suffering that we believe he is reflecting in the torture and death of his victims,” Rossi continued having returned a few moments before the conference had begun. 

Jensen, Misha, Danneel and Sandy all sat outside the conference room on a lumpy beaten up old couch, but none of them seemed to mind, or notice. Instead, they sat staring straight ahead as they anxiously listened in on what the Agents were saying inside the conference room. 

“Based on the shape of the victims faces we have a rough composite sketch of what we believe our unsub looks like,” Prentiss said as she stepped forward and began to hand out stacks of drawings to each section of the room.

Moving his now free hand, the one not clutching the knife that he held poised over Jared’s face, the sociopath roughly grabbed hold of Jared’s jaw, fingertips digging carelessly into the tender flesh of Jared’s cheeks. Cloudy, ruddy blue eyes searched Jared’s wide beseeching ones and a crazed smirk tilted the psychopath’s lips up into a wry smirk behind the mask he wore while the wrist of his hand holding the knife swiveled, allowing the blade to circle Jared’s face like some sort of gruesome wheel of fortune; it’s stopping point sealing Jared’s fate. 

It was evident from the way that Jared fearfully attempted to sink back from the man’s cruel grasp toward the hard and unyielding surface of the slab beneath him that Jared had caught onto his captor’s game. His wide horror filled eyes settled apprehensively on the blade of the knife and his nostrils flared, brow creasing with distress and anxiety. He choked back a harsh sob that burned his throat and tinted his features a deep crimson as tears glistened within the depths of his eyes.

The tip of the blade stopped above Jared’s cheek and a soft sob caught in his throat, his brow knitting as he struggled against his bonds in panicked agitation.

Jared’s attacker dipped his head down low until his mask covered mouth hovered near Jared’s ear, “Could’a been worse,” he rasped softly, “It could’a stopped over your eye,” he reasoned dispassionately. 

Inhaling deeply against the terror that had lodged itself in his chest and had his heart beating out a frenzied tempo, Jared’s nostrils flared and he again tugged against the bounds holding his wrists firmly in place, fingers flexing with desperation. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed as his throat convulsed and he swallowed hard against the images that the madman’s words conjured of him without an eye. 

Pulling his head back, the psychopath watched dispassionately as he pressed the sharp tip of the blade against the apple of Jared’s cheek causing blood to immediately pool along the metal and slide in a slow trickle downward along the side of his face. 

A softly grunted groan of pain tore from Jared’s throat only to be muffled against the leather gag in his mouth as his eyes fluttered repeatedly, opening to mere slits and closing tightly as though he might be able to somehow blink the pain away. 

Pulling the blade abruptly away from Jared’s cheek, the man lowered it to the leather strap that was stretched across Jared’s mouth. Carelessly, he slipped the sharp blade in between the leather and the tender flesh of the side of Jared’s jaw, then with a hard tug of the knife upward, he effectively sliced through the gag. 

A whimpered gasp at the pain caused by the blade slicing through the new area of delicate skin broke from Jared a second before his body jerked in shock at the abrupt rough jerk against the gag that had kept him silent for so long. 

“Can’t have that getting in our way now can we?” the sociopath mused with a deranged and husky chuckle. 

As his body trembled, Jared’s breaths panted fearfully out from between newly freed dry, cracked and bleeding lips. He didn’t bother to answer the maniac however only attempted to shake his head despite the bastard’s tight grasp on his jaw, as he stared pleadingly up at him in wide eyed trepidation. 

“No, no, no,” Jared begged anxiously as he struggled uselessly against the restraints, “Please…”

His wide horrified eyes tracked the blade, watching as it was once again slowly lowered toward his face. His eyes squeezed tightly closed and he grit his teeth, jaw clenched tightly against the sharp stinging pain of the blade as it began to slice through his skin. 

As the sociopath pulled the blade of the knife along Jared’s cheek, the pressure of the sharpened edge increased pushing the blade in further; like a knife through butter it sank in past muscle and tissue, sliding down deep enough to drag painfully against bone. Blood ran in steady rivulets from the haphazard patterns that the psychopath carved into Jared’s face despite the cries of agony that ripped loudly from his throat and echoed back at them off the walls.

Mrs. Cortese’ brow knitted as she gazed out the window of the small diner located across the street from the police station in which she and her husband sat, her attention drawn to the numerous news vans pulling up outside the station. 

Turning from the window, she reached for her purse and began to slide from her side of the booth as she lifted her gaze distractedly to her husband. 

“I want to go back to the police station,” she abruptly announced. 

Her husband’s eyes widened in stupefied alarm, “What?” 

His brow furrowed in confusion as he watched her start to slide across the booth, “What ever for?” 

He followed his wife’s example and hastily slid from his booth only to find himself chasing after her as she strode swiftly to the door of the restaurant and out. He rushed out the glass double doors behind her, just in time to watch her march angrily across the street toward the police station. 

“Where are you going?” he called confusedly, “Kitten?” he implored when not only did she not answer, but she didn’t even look his way. 

He’d used the pet name that only he called her in hopes that it would get her attention and she would stop, talk to him, explain what it was that was going on in that little brain of hers, but instead she just kept walking. With a heavy sigh of exasperation he hurried after her, jogging across the distance separating them. She was just approaching the first of the reporters when he managed to catch up to her, walking along side her as she spoke. 

“Hello,” she began in an attempt to gain their attention, “I’m sorry I don’t mean to interrupt,” she continued as her dark gaze roamed over the equipment they were unloading.

“Is this about Jared? About his kidnapping? About how the bastard allowed his wife, _my daughter_ to be brutally murdered?” she inquired angrily even as tears pooled in her eyes. 

There was a moment of silence as the reporters all looked hesitantly at one another and then, in a flash, they all turned from their previous destination and instead of heading inside to met up with J. J. Jareau they all converged on Mrs. Cortese, wanting to know what she knew, wanting the story in her own words. What had happened to her daughter? What was the kidnapping about? Who had taken Jared? Was he alive? Was there something going on that the media and better yet that the _fans_ should know? These questions and more buzzed amongst the crowd that had encircled itself around Mrs. Cortese. Someone ran over a line of questions that would need to be addressed then went on to inform her that she could add anything else that she thought was pertinent to the story. A woman dressed in overalls with a bag of make-up hanging off her shoulder and a comb, brush and bottle of hairspray hanging out of one pocket waked up to Mrs. Cortese. She dabbed powder on Mrs. Cortese’ nose, the apples of her cheeks and along her forehead then stepped back and disappeared off into the crowd. It was almost surreal for Mr. Cortese as he watched these people with his wife; the way the reporters escorted her in an almost regal fashion up the front steps of the police station to the lectern that had been set in place for the officers in charge so that they could address the public. Instead of course, it would now be Mrs. Cortese addressing the masses, in her own words, a mother’s words, telling everyone the _real_ story.

“My daughter was brutally murdered and it was all Jared Padalecki’s fault,” Mrs. Cortese announced as she squared her shoulders and tilted her chin upward haughtily while staring unflinchingly into the cameras. 

“My daughter was a caring and loving woman who gave selflessly…” she continued bravely despite the tears in her voice and pooling in her dark eyes. 

“Genevieve gave her freedom away to a man who not only did not appreciate her but did not love her. In agreeing to marry Jared Padalecki, my daughter gave up the freedom to ever find real true love for herself. Jared Padalecki did not love my daughter, instead he was and is in love with the very person whom he stared in that,” she explained, her chin quivering with the last of it before her lip curled into a hateful sneer, “that _cut rate_ television show, Supernatural.” 

She drew in a shuddering breath and sniffled softly before continuing, “My daughter merely played a role,” she announced, “Granted, it was the role of a lifetime…And like the brilliant actress she was, my Genevieve played a part. It was her job to aid Jared Padalecki in deceiving all of you, to make you all believe that they were in love, that he was in love with someone…female. When in fact he is and always has been in love with none other than Jensen Ackles.” 

“Her father and I have been beside ourselves with grief over the loss of our little princess,” she murmured in anguish. 

“A mother never expects to have to bury her own child, the loss is…overwhelming,” she continued hoarsely. 

Dramatically, Mrs. Cortese blotted her tears with her husband’s handkerchief when he handed it over to her from where he stood now, at her side in front of the cameras. 

“Mrs. Cortese, do the police have any leads on who it was that killed your daughter?” a reporter asked. 

Mrs. Cortese shook her head in answer as she choked back a sob, her gaze lowering to her hands as she pulled them back and fidgeted anxiously with the hanky. 

Lifting her gaze she pressed her lips together in an attempt to stop their trembling, “No,” she whispered hoarsely. 

She cleared her throat and sniffled, “They haven’t even tried,” she responded disgustedly. 

“They let Jared’s lover take over and now they’re all too busy fretting over Jared to care about our little Genny,” she spat softly with a huff and a roll of her eyes. 

“Not that they’re actually doing anything about that either,” she scoffed with detest, shaking her head, “It’s just a wreck in there…”

Cups of coffee in hand, Jensen, Misha, Danneel and Sandy stood in the large conference room once the meeting had ended, waiting along with J. J. and the others for the reporters to show. 

The quick rapping of knuckles against the open wooden door drew everyone’s attention over to Captain Newberry, “You guys aren’t gonna believe this,” he remarked anxiously.

“What?” Prentiss inquired, turning toward him and away from Danneel and Sandy. 

“What is it, Captain?” Hotchner urged. 

His mouth opened and closed as he shook his head, “Maybe you ought to just see it,” he suggested with a nod toward the television. 

“Turn on the local news, any channel, it’s all over all of ’em,” he directed with a weary disheartened sigh. 

Reid’s brow creased and his gaze swung from the Captain to Hotch as if to ask his direction. 

Hotchner gave a curt nod as his eyes met Reid’s before jutting his chin toward the television. 

Turning from Aaron toward the TV, Reid crossed the space between himself and it. Lifting one arm, he reached for the buttons on the front panel, turning the television on. He backed discreetly out of the way, allowing the others to see the screen as immediately Genevieve’s mother’s image came into view. 

Jensen’s jaw clenched angrily, muscle in his jaw twitching as he listened to the woman spew lies and garbage about first Jared and then his relationship with Genevieve. His lip curled up in a hateful sneer and his eyes tightened with rage when the woman spilled the truth about his and Jared’s relationship. 

“Sonuvabitch,” he growled. 

“J. J.,” Agent Hotchner growled softly. 

“I’m on it, sir,” she replied quickly. 

J. J. swiftly turned and fled the office. Jaw set and lips pressed in a thin line of disgruntled irritation she marched purposefully toward front door of the police department intent on putting a stop to the interview streaming live from right outside. 

“You two,” Captain Newberry barked, “Go with her and give her a hand cleaning this mess up,” he commanded. 

Tears of loss and confusion, anger and heartbreak shone within the depths of Jensen’s verdant eyes as he lifted his hands to each side his head. His fingers dug into the short stands of his hair and curled into tightly clenched fists as his teeth clenched against the anguish that seemed to strangle his heart. A soft whimper broke from deep in his throat despite his best intentions of holding it back. 

Misha and Danneel moved at almost the same time, each one reaching for Jensen. They each laid a hand on one of his shoulders and began murmuring soothingly while peering worriedly at him. 

“Jensen,” Derek called gently. 

Jensen turned toward the sound of his name though his hands remained fisted within the short strands of his hair. His brows were furrowed and eyes tear-filled and wide, beseeching as his gaze swept over the team. 

“Please,” he begged with a distraught shake of his head, “you gotta save him…” 

Derek sighed softly, sympathetic gaze shifting from Jensen over to the others whose expressions seemed to mirror his own. 

“Jensen, is what she’s saying about you and Jared true?” Agent Hotchner inquired gently. 

Slowly Jensen’s hands released their grip and he lowered his arms to his sides as he gulped in a ragged breath and nodded. His eyes squeezed tightly closed against the sting of tears that wet his lashes and his throat convulsed as he swallowed hard before blinking his eyes back open. Immediately his hands lifted one at a time, wiping away the tears from his eyes before they had the chance to fall. He sniffled as he nodded again and cleared his throat. 

“Yes,” he rasped softly, “Jared and I are,” he glanced at Danneel and reached for one of her hands. Grasping it he drew her hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. Lowering their joined hands, his thumb brushing back and forth across Danneel’s knuckles comfortingly he returned his attention to Agent Hotchner. 

“Jared and I are lovers,” he confirmed, “We’re in love. We have been since the day we met on the set of Supernatural,” he clarified. 

“So then why the charade?” Derek inquired. 

“The powers that be didn’t want people to find out that the two main stars of their television show about _brothers_ were in reality lovers,” Jensen explained. 

“As for the marriages,” he murmured with another glance Danneel’s way, his hand giving hers an encouraging squeeze, “We both want children,” he replied simply with a small strained smile. 

“Can’t really get one’a those from two guys,” he reasoned. 

Aaron glanced over at Misha before returning his attention to Jensen, “And Mr. Collins?” He inquired with a lift of one brow, “Where does he fit into all this?” 

Jensen and Misha exchanged stunned expressions before their brows furrowed in nearly the same look of confusion. Jensen snorted at the idea of there being anything more than a close friendship between himself and Misha, hell Jared felt the same way about their slightly eccentric co-star. 

A bark of laughter bubbled out from deep in Misha’s throat, his head momentarily tilted back in amusement before it lowered as he shook it in disbelief.

“Um, I’ll answer that,” he volunteered with a glance Jensen’s way to be sure that Jensen didn’t mind him cutting in. 

Jensen lifted his brows incredulously and gave Misha a slight nod for him to go on. 

“I would simply explain that I am married however given the situations at hand I have a feeling that’s not enough,” he began, “No, nothing is going on between Jensen and I. I’m married with a son and well, if I had anything else on the side, I probably wouldn’t have the energy to go to work every day,” he explained. 

He surveyed the sea of slightly confused faces in front of him and pressed his lips together in frustration before rolling his eyes and huffing in annoyance, “I live in a threesome,” he blurted.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serial killer is targeting dark haired muscular male actors. When Jared is kidnapped and his wife brutally murdered in their home, it’s the men and women of the FBI’s BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit)’s job to figure out how to find him before Jared joins this mad man’s growing list of deceased victims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve Cortese-Padalecki DIES in this fiction. If you are a Fan of Genevieve's you may wish to PASS on this fiction. PLEASE BE ADVISED. 
> 
> Fiction was written for the CROSS BIG BANG on LiveJournal in 2012. 
> 
> A special thanks goes to Jeff Davis for the creation of Criminal Minds, the set up and some of the words used within this fiction. A special thanks also goes out The Mark Gordon Company and CBS Television/ABC Studios. 
> 
> As for the fiction itself, I realize I am crossing genres here, however I couldn’t see this as a Supernatural/ Criminal Minds crossover - it just didn’t fit with how the victims in Criminal Minds usually are. I hope that regardless of that fact you enjoy the story told herein. **Note:** Author has taken liberties with some of the information in this story, please be advised.

J. J. and the two police officers with her confronted the reporters along with Mrs. Cortese, and within only a few moments J. J. was replacing Mrs. Cortese in speaking to the public. This time the information came on behalf of the department as well as the FBI. She explained that measures were in fact being taken to find the person responsible for the heinous crimes against Casper Van Dien, Drew Fuller, and Taylor Kitsch who had been recently found murdered as well as Ms. Genevieve Cortese - Padalecki. 

“Don’t call her that,” Mrs. Cortese snapped, “Do not even speak her name in the same sentence as that - that rat bastard.” 

Sighing heavily, J. J. pressed her lips together in irritation before giving a slow nod of acknowledgement. 

“Cortese,” she corrected with exaggerated pronunciation and a brief glance in Genevieve’s mother’s direction. 

She affirmed the fact that whoever was responsible for the murders now held Jared Padalecki captive and that they were working diligently to return him to his loved ones. As questions began to arise regarding Jared’s love affair with Mr. Ackles one of the officers who had been accompanying J. J. turned and hurried back inside at her signal. She had briefly spoke to the officers on the way out alerting them to the fact that they might need to call Jensen out and have him speak to the public as well but that she was uncertain yet and would let them know. 

“Do you all have any leads so far as to who the killer may be?” one reporter called out. 

“We have a rough composite sketch of what we believe him to look like,” J. J. replied. 

“How can you have a composite of what he looks like if you’ve never seen him?” another reporter questioned. 

“We’re basing it on some information we’ve obtained…” J. J. responded vaguely. 

“So is it true that you’re basing the killer on the look of his victims?” one of the reporters inquired.

J. J. gaped a moment before shaking her head. That bit of information was supposed to be kept under wraps, it wasn’t something they wanted anyone else, especially the unsub to know. 

“He uses the internet to find his victims so you should be cautious when posting to networking sites. Don’t tell your activities. Don’t post new pictures or personal information. And please, do not mention your location in any way,” J. J. offered instead. 

“Do we know for certain if Jared Padalecki is even still alive or if the Picasso Mangler has already killed him?” a third reporter asked.

“The Picasso Mangler?” J. J. asked, brow creasing in confusion.

“Well, yeah,” the reporter responded with a shrug, “It is what everyone is calling him.” 

J. J. slowly shook her head, dishearten by the fact that the press had already named this psycho. 

“We are remaining hopeful,” she murmured. 

“Is there any truth as you know it to the idea that Jared Padalecki allowed his wife to be murdered?” a reporter asked. 

“What? No, I don’t think that at all,” J. J. replied. “Whatever the man’s issues were or weren’t with his wife, I don’t believe that has any bearing on this case.”

“My wife, she wrote a book about that very thing, it’s even called, ‘The Handbook for Threesomes’,” Misha explained. 

“She takes the reader on a tour of their own sexual desires and asks them to look at what they like versus what they can handle and what they really want…”

“J. J. sent me in with a message, she needs Ackles outside to debunk the garbage they’re throwing at her,” the police officer interrupted. 

Rossi nodded to the officer before returning his attention to Misha, brows knitted curiously, “So this was your wife’s idea?” he concluded. 

Misha nodded earnestly, his own brows lifted. 

Rossi shook his head as he stepped forward, making his way toward the door. He gave Misha an amiable pat on the back as he walked past him, “Oh to be young again,” he mused with a soft chuckle. 

“Jensen,” Hotchner addressed with a nod, “You ready?” 

Gripping Danneel’s tightly within his own, his lips pressed into a thin line in an attempt to fight back the tidal wave of emotions churning inside him though his eyes were dry now, at least for the moment albeit red rimmed and slightly swollen from his earlier tears. He gave Hotchner a curt nod and squeezed Danneel’s hand before following the Agent out of the conference room, his wife in tow. 

Rossi jerked his head to the side after Hotch and the others as he looked at Misha, “Come on, Jensen’s gonna need you out there,” he directed gently. 

Sandy’s gaze met Misha’s and he reached for her, drawing her in up against his side as he followed Rossi out the door. The three of them caught up with Hotchner and the others just around the corner next to the twin sets of double doors. 

“Alright listen, it will look best if you stay at his side,” Hotchner informed Danneel with a stern nod. 

“As for you, standing beside Mrs. Ackles will help the people at home to see that you are there for the two of them. They will of course assume that you are a friend of Mrs. Ackles which is what we want now,” he explained as his eyes met Sandy’s.

His gaze swung then to Misha, “Stay with him, but stand slightly behind him at his side, this will give the illusion that while you have his back you aren’t vying for a more intimate relationship with him.”

Misha nodded and moved to stand where he was told. 

“Keep your message brief and to the point and keep your answers the same. Once you feel you’ve said enough turn and walk back toward us, Agent Rossi, Morgan and myself will escort the four of you back inside, understood?” Aaron instructed. 

At everyone’s nod of understanding, Hotchner returned the gesture then turned and crossed the short distance to the door, followed by Rossi and Morgan. He held the door open and the two Agents exited first followed by Jensen, his wife along with Sandy and Misha; Hotchner exited last, his gaze sweeping the crowd for potential danger as he walked along behind Jensen and his party. 

J. J. turned her attention toward the commotion to her right and smiled as she saw Jensen and his wife along with their friends heading her way. She turned her attention back to the crowd of reporters and smiled.

“I think you’ll be able to ask him that yourself,” she replied.

Turning back toward Jensen as he stepped up, she smiled up at him before her gaze went to Danneel at his side. She offered them both her hand, one at a time, to shake before stepping back from the lectern allowing Jensen to step up. He cleared his throat softly as his eyes roamed over the sea of reporters before lowering to the wooden top of the lectern. His grip on Danneel’s hand tightened with his anxiety, having never cared much for being the center-of-attention despite being an actor. Hell, that’d always been Jared’s thing and Jensen had gladly allowed his lover to have it. Jared seemed to thrive on the attention where he was happy to sit in the back and simply _be_. Jared use to tease him that it was because he fancied himself being a cowboy out on the lone prairie. The thought brought a soft whimsical smile to his face even as it caused his heart to constrict painfully in his chest. The memory of the day that the conversation had first taken place, his love’s face smiling down at him where he’d laid with his head on Jared’s lap as they’d sat on one of the prop benches together between sets. 

“Mr. Ackles, what are the CW’s plans for the show now that one of their main stars is gone?” a reporter inquired. 

Jensen’s grip tightened painfully on Danneel’s hand and she had to fight not to grimace. Instead she leaned in so that her mouth was close to Jensen’s ear though she kept her gaze on the public before them. 

“You can do it,” she encouraged softly, “Do it for Jare, Jenny Bean.” 

“Jensen, are the allegations regarding your relationship true, _are_ you and Jared having an affair? And if so, then is Mrs. Cortese correct, _did_ Jared forsake Genevieve for you and not care for her?” a reporter for E! Online questioned. 

Jensen swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as his eyes darted between the two reporters. 

“I don’t,” he rasped softly. 

He paused and cleared his throat before trying again, “I don’t know the CW’s plans and right now they aren’t really who or what I am worried about. I’m sure they understand the situation and are praying with the rest of us that Jared is returned safely,” he replied with a nod. 

“Are the allegations regarding my relationship with Jared true?” He echoed before scoffing softly. 

“It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind on that, asking about it now after you’ve already sentenced us seems like a waste of time to me,” he retorted simply. 

“As for Jared being a bad husband,” he began with a shake of his head, “I saw nothing but the contrary. Jared was always there for her, he bragged about her. Hell, he got a fandom that use to hate her to love her,” he retorted incredulously. 

“No, nothing about Jared Padalecki that Mrs. Cortese said is true to the best of my knowledge,” he responded. 

“And you would know,” Mrs. Cortese quipped. 

Jensen, Danneel, Sandy and Misha all turned their attention to Mrs. Cortese. 

“Don’t lie to these people, Jensen,” she sneered maliciously, “If you’re going to be queer then just be queer, but don’t lie and pull these poor girls into whatever sick game it is that you and Jared have going,” she said with a wave of her hand toward Danneel. 

“Frankly, I’m rather impressed how well you’ve brainwashed this one,” Mrs. Cortese sneered as she looked Danneel up and down disgustedly. 

“You bitch,” Danneel snarled softly. 

“I’m not lying,” Jensen replied. “You are, about Jared and Genevieve. Jared was the best husband she could have had and you know it,” he retorted.

He scoffed, “Hell, Jared was too good for her,” he spat. 

Mrs. Cortese crossed the short distance between herself and Jensen and swiftly drew back her hand smacking him across the face hard enough that the sound of it echoed through the nearby alley. 

“That queer lover of yours should have been the one with a stab wound in his belly and not my little girl!” Mrs. Cortese shrieked.

Police officers and members of Hotch’s team swiftly moved in and subdued her, cuffing her hands behind her back. 

“I hope that when they find him, your precious Jared is already dead. Then maybe you’ll know what it feels like when someone you love with every fiber of your being is murdered,” she sneered venomously as two officers led her away and into the station with Mr. Cortese silently following along after them. 

Jensen barely felt the sting on his cheek as he listened to Genevieve’s mother in stunned stupefaction. It was only after she was ushered inside that he managed to shake himself out of the stupor he found himself in. Taking a deep fortifying breath he struggled to regain a bit of his composure though tears stung his eyes and had him swallowing hard against the sob that burned at the back of his throat as he thought of finding Jared dead pricked at the back of his mind.

 _No, Jared couldn’t be dead, he was always so full of life, he just couldn’t be. They’d find him alive, he’d be alive. He had to be…_

“Come on,” J. J. coaxed, “Let’s get you guys inside,” she suggested as she wrapped an arm around Jensen’s shoulders. 

Danneel started to follow J. J.’s lead, tugging Jensen along with her by the tight grip he still held on her hand only for Jensen pull back and shake his head. 

“No wait,” he mumbled before turning his attention back to the reporters. 

“Okay, yes, Jared and I are… _together_ and I love him very much, so please…if you’re out there, please listen to me and let Jared go. I need him with me, I…” he blurted and paused, fighting for a semblance of composure as tears rolled down his cheeks and caused his bottom lip to tremble. 

“I don’t know what I would do without him… you can’t imagine knowing that kind of…sunshine personality…for him to be taken from me, it…my world is cast in shadow and darkness without him,” he murmured forlornly. 

“Please,” he begged hoarsely as he shook his head, “If…if you have to take someone, take me,”

Danneel and Sandy gasped in unison and Misha stepped forward, grabbing onto Jensen’s arm tightly as though by that simple touch he could keep a madman a bay. 

“Just please, not my Jared,” Jensen continued as though nothing had happened, “He loves life too much and life needs him,” he concluded with a nod before hanging his head as he turned to go back inside. 

“Hey, I got a better idea than letting some sick fuck take you in place of Jared,” came a deep husky voice from the crowd one that sounded as though it’s owner had spent one too many nights in bars filled with cigarette smoke and had had drank one too many shots of whiskey. 

All eyes turned toward the sound of the voice and the sea of reporters parted as the man to whom the voice belonged strolled up the steps of the Los Angeles police department and over to Jensen, pulling him in for a hug. 

“Chris,” Jensen murmured, “M’glad you’re here, man,” he said as he hugged his friend. 

“Yeah, from the sounds of things it seems I got here just in time to keep your ass straight,” Chris replied as he clapped Jensen’s back before releasing him. 

“Come on,” he coaxed with a jut of his head toward the police station, “You can show me what it looks like when you’re not here to be processed,” Chris drawled, a small teasing grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

While Jensen introduced Christian to the members of the behavioral analysis team; Sandy and J. J. went to the break room to get everyone coffee. When the ladies returned, both of them carrying coffee cups braced precariously in their hands and against their chests, it was to find the others all seated around the large conference table talking. 

“Someone spilled to the media what we talked about in here regarding how we believe the unsub is choosing his victims,” J. J. sighed.

Hotchner nodded, “I already alerted Captain Newberry and he’s looking into it on his end though he doesn’t believe it was any of his men.”

J. J. pressed her lips into a thin line though she nodded her acceptance and began passing out the coffees she held. 

“So what was this better idea that you had?” Jensen inquired from where he sat across the table from Christian with Danneel and Misha flanking him on each side. 

“Well,” Chris began only to pause and smile flirtatiously up at J. J. as she placed a cup of coffee in front of him. 

“Married,” Jensen muttered half under his breath but loud enough for Chris to hear. 

Chris scoffed softly as his gaze darted between the cute blonde and his friend, “Aren’t they always?” he drawled with an innocent shrug. 

His eyes swept over the others at the table before he huffed out a breath of exasperation. Apparently these guys had no sense of humor. Returning his attention to Jensen, his lips curved down into a thoughtful frown as his brows lifted and he gave a slight shrug. 

“Use me,” he replied simply. 

“What?” Jensen asked incredulously. 

“Excuse me?” Derek inquired. 

“Chris,” Danneel gasped. 

Sandy nearly dropped the last two coffees she held as her attention snapped to Chris, her eyes wide with shock and panic. 

“Chris, no,” she murmured with a shake of her head. 

Prentiss glanced from each person around the table before her wide eyed gaze fell on Chris, taken aback by his suggestion. 

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” she accused softly. 

Reid’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Chris, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. 

“Hmm, it’s an interesting theory,” he mused. 

“What is?” Jensen inquired. 

“Using him as bait,” Reid answered, “I believe Christian fit’s the qualifications appearance wise that would attract the unsub’s attention, but what’s curious is whether or not he would indeed take the bait.” 

Jensen stared incredulously at Reid and his mouth opened and closed, brow furrowing deeply before he finally managed to get the words past his lips as he shook his head adamantly. 

“No, hell no!” he barked, glancing back at Chris sternly before returning his attention to Reid.

“It doesn’t matter if it would work or not because we’re not doing it and that’s final,” he insisted. 

“Jen,” Chris started.

“No,” Jensen reiterated as his gaze swung back to Christian. 

He squeezed his eyes closed against the pain that welled up in his chest as he swallowed back emotion and fought the sting of tears. His jaw clenched and he slowly shook his head as he blinked his eyes open, their blood shot green depths filled with desperation, heartache and pain. 

“That son of a bitch has already taken Jared from me, don’t you let him take you too,” he growled through his teeth, voice hoarse with emotion. 

With his lips pressed tightly together and his eyes filled with sympathy, Misha reached a hand out and cupped the back of his friend’s neck in a gentle comforting grip.

“While I understand your feelings, Jensen I think that maybe Reid has a point,” Agent Rossi commented.

“If the unsub takes the bait thus flushing him out of hiding and we’d be able to get him long before he gets Chris,” he reasoned. 

Hotchner’s gaze darted between Reid and Rossi, “You think it’s worth a shot?” 

Rossi and Reid both nodded their affirmation. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait just a second here,” Jensen interrupted as he abruptly stood to his feet, “You can’t just ask Chris to do something like that,” he argued. 

“They didn’t,” Chris retorted with a slow grin curling his lips, “I volunteered,” he corrected simply. 

Much to Jensen’s dismay the BAU team began to get things in order so that they could set Chris up as bait in an attempt to draw the killer out. Since Brian Buckley was still being held it wasn’t too difficult to get him to agree to put on a concert that evening in exchange for his immediate freedom, although the department did put a plain clothed officer on the musician’s tail just to be on the safe side. They had Chris tweet from his own twitter account @ChistianKane01 that he was going to be at the BBB concert downtown that evening. Once the members of the BAU and local law enforcement had everything well under way, the BAU team met again with Chris and the others inside the large conference room where they went over the plan again and again with Christian while they waited for Penelope to arrive so that she could set Chris up with a wire. 

“I don’t like it,” Jensen muttered with a shake of his head. 

Chris quirked a brow and frowned in irritation as he looked back over his shoulder at Jensen. He heaved a weary sigh as he shook his head in exasperation.

“Nobody asked you,” he retorted pointedly as he turned back around.

Penelope Garcia hurried into the conference room dressed in a combination of lime green and fuchsia pink, her blond hair pulled back in a bright pink bow to match her shoes and the pink striping on her jacket and the lines along her shoes and the beads of her necklace that were mingled with the green which her business suit was as well as her shoes and the tiny rimmed glasses that were perched on her nose.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was horrible, thank _God_ you had someone from here to pick me up at the airport,” she announced.

Pausing in mid step, Penelope’s lips parted and her eyes widened in appreciation as they fixed on Christian, roaming from his eyes down his body. Her lips slowly slid into a wide flirtatious smile as her eyes lifted, meeting Christian’s once more. 

“Garcia, did you bring it?” Hotchner asked, cutting right to the chase. 

Startled out of her rather lascivious daydream by Agent Hotchner, Penelope jumped. Eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the lust induced fog from her brain she turned her attention to Aaron and nodded. 

“Y-yes, sir,” she stammered. 

Derek lifted his brows in surprise at Garcia as he crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Heh, I always have that effect on women,” Chris commented conspiratorially as he leaned in his chair toward Agent Morgan. 

Penelope stepped up to Chris with a smile, “Looks like you need me,” she murmured. 

Chris’ lips pulled into a smirk as he gazed into her eyes, “Do I?” he rasped softly. 

Garcia blinked a couple times and lowered her eyes briefly before lifting them once more to Chris’ face. 

“I - I mean, the wire,” she stammered with a slight shrug, “Ya know…”

“Mm,” Chris hummed, glancing down at the pin in her hands before lifting his gaze to her eyes as he nodded, “Right, the wire,” he agreed softly. 

Penelope lifted both of her hands which trembled slightly and slipped her fingers into the color of Chris’ shirt. Her breath caught in her thought a moment before she released it and cleared her throat awkwardly. 

“Sorry, warm,” she explained lamely. 

A smile curled her lips in answer to the one Chris gave her as she fastened the pin to the soft cotton, using her fingers to protect from accidentally stabbing him. Once she finished, she quickly pulled her hands back and pulled out a tiny ear piece, handing it over to Chris.

“You’re all set,” she declared. 

Chris’ brows rose, “That’s it? Just the tacky pin and this ear bud?” 

Penelope nodded and frowned, brow creasing with confusion, “What did you think there would be?”

Chris shrugged a shoulder, “Oh I dunno, just that this is a lot nicer set up than the stuff we use on Leverage. This stuff kinda makes that seem like the huge cell phones from the eighties,” he mused with a soft chuckle. 

Hotchner’s lips twitched just slightly upward at one corner where he stood across the room with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“We have much more advanced; ‘ _cell phones_ ’, he responded with a sage nod.

The music was loud and the air smoke filled inside the downtown L.A. rock club where the Brian Buckley Band was now performing. Luckily the agency had been able to persuade the owner of the establishment to make a few last minute changes to the schedule and get the band on this evening. They all just hoped that it didn’t seem too overly construed and that the unsub would take the bait. Armed officers surrounded the building and the adjacent parking area at strategic well hidden locations. The wire Chris wore allowed everyone on the team to hear every word that he said or anything that was spoken to him, along with every other noise within Chris’ hearing range and right now, ninety percent of what was heard through the line was nothing but the ear drum piercing scream of guitars mixed with the heavy boom of a bass and drums. Despite their objections, Jensen, Danneel, Misha and Sandy had been ordered to remain at the station where it was safe and they wouldn’t be as tempted to do anything stupid. Garcia however promised them that she would make sure to keep them well informed and updated throughout the night. 

Christian meandered through the crowd, his brow creased in irritation as his gaze roamed over each face suspiciously; his fight or flight instinct on high alert as adrenaline pumped wildly though his veins. This was probably the worst part of the night, waiting. If there was a way to speed this along so that Chris could simply cold cock this son of a bitch he’d be a lot happier. 

“Meh, I don’t see anything in here,” Chris muttered low where only the guys listening in on the wire could hear him. 

His brows rose and his steps slowed as his eyes slid over supple curves encased in a tight black mini-dress. 

“’Cept maybe a red-head who I wouldn’t mind takin’ home,” he amended with a devilish grin. 

The girl turned and looked his way, flashing him a flirtatious smile of her own. Chris winked and started to turn back toward her only to remember that he wasn’t exactly alone tonight. 

_Shit!_

“I’m guessin’ that you guys wouldn’t give me like, I dunno, an hour to myself?” he mused. 

His lips curled down into a frown of annoyance as he shook his head in answer to his own question and the red-head‘s unspoken one. He’d stared in enough episodes of Leverage to know that his answer was going to be a big fat, ‘ _no_ ’. 

“Ah let’s just stay focused, alright?” Hotchner replied. 

“Yeah, alright,” Chris grumbled irritatedly.

“Morgan, how much longer till this thing’s over?” Hotchner inquired. 

“Says the band’s last set is at two, last round is called at three,” Derek replied. 

With a glance at his watch, Hotch sighed heavily, exasperated at the amount of time they had yet to wait since it was only a little after eleven in the evening. 

“Settle in guys, we’re in for a long night,” he surmised.

“What time is it?” Jensen inquired as he walked into the office in which Garcia sat typing away at her keyboard. 

She paused and looked back over her shoulder at him offering a soft smile, “Oh hey,” she greeted gently. 

“It’s,” she started, glancing down at her watch, “a little past midnight,” she replied, eying Jensen as he stepped up to her desk. 

“Can’t sleep?” she deduced.

“It’s not that,” Jensen muttered.

“Well, I mean, no I can’t,” he amended, “But I was thinking about something Dr. Reid said earlier,” he explained. 

“Yeah?“ Penelope inquired with a lift of her perfectly arched brows, “And what did Reid say, Sugar?” 

Jensen lowered his gaze as he fought back the tide of emotions that threatened every other minute to swallow him alive. He squeezed his eyes closed against the sting of new tears and drew in a deep fortifying breath between his lips before lifting his head and opening his eyes once more. 

“He said that 90% of all abduction victims are killed within the first 36 hours,” Jensen replied, “It’s been roughly twenty one hours already,” he murmured dejectedly. 

Gazing up at Jensen sympathetically, Penelope pressed her lips together in a firm line as she reached out, grasping one of his hands within her own. 

“Sometimes, it is rare I’ll admit, but sometimes Reid has been known to be wrong,” she murmured, “You hang in there,” she reassured softly. 

“Thanks,” Jensen whispered hoarsely. 

Nodding, he pressed his own lips tightly together as he blinked back the burn of tears. 

Offering a small smile of encouragement, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it with a wink and returning her attention to the computers in front of her.

“God, I’m bored,” Chris grumbled as he took a seat at one of the now empty tables. 

He leaned back in the chair with a weary sigh and used his tongue to roll the toothpick he held in his mouth before gripping the small piece of wood between his teeth as he sat back up and surveyed the room again.

“Seriously guys, I think maybe this is a bust, maybe I’m not his type after all,” Chris suggested. 

“Maybe he only likes ’em tall and doofy lookin’,” he mused with a chuckle. 

Sobering almost immediately, he quirked a brow as his gaze moved over the room again, “Hey, you guys don’t need to tell Jen I said that about his boy alright?”

Derek and Prentiss’ amused chuckles sounded over the line. 

“No really, guys look I’m serious,” Chris insisted. 

“I’m sorry, we can’t hear you, what’s that was that? You want us to _tell_ Jensen what you said?” Morgan teased. 

Prentiss’ laughter along with a few of the other officers from the L.A. P. D echoed over the line. 

“Oh you’re a real funny man, Morgan,” Chris groused. 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Hotchner directed.

The line went silent for a long moment as Chris sat surveying the room for anyone who might look suspicious only to find nothing that he thought looked out of the ordinary. The night was proving to be as uneventful as one could ever possibly be since he wasn’t allowed to drink, he had to keep his wits about him and he also wasn’t allowed to dash out for a quick interlude somewhere with anyone either, not that he thought ‘Red’ looked at all dangerous. Well, dangerous curves maybe; soft shoulders, slippery when wet… but as it was all he could do was add her image to the spank bank because instead of getting a piece of that action he had to sit here and act as bait; man Steve was right, sometimes he really did have a big mouth. 

The sound of Brian’s voice announcing the band’s last song and the first round of last calls for liquor drew Christian’s attention to the stage. 

“I guess this is it, huh guys?” Chris deduced. 

Sitting forward in his chair, he braced his hands on his thighs as his gaze roamed over the occupants that remained inside the dimly lit, smoke filled bar. 

“Hang back a little,” Agent Rossi instructed. “You don’t want to appear too anxious,” he explained. 

“They said that Jared was one of the last ones to leave the Viper room,” Derek mentioned. 

“He’s going to want you alone in the parking lot,” Rossi agreed. 

Chris brow furrowed and his lips curved downward incredulously, “What, is there some kinda bad guy hand book that says to only try this at home when your victims are alone?”

“It’s the world’s biggest cliché there is!” he exclaimed sardonically. 

He shook his head as he pulled to his feet, “These people need to find a new Goddamn handbook,” he grumbled disgustedly. 

“It’s actually a good thing that the bad guys play by the book, otherwise a lot less of them would get caught,” Hotch reasoned. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Chris reluctantly mumbled in agreement.

Slowly the last of the remaining patrons made their way out of the bar, leaving only the manager, the Brian Buckley Band members and Christian inside. 

“Alright, go ahead and leisurely make your way out to the car,” Hotchner directed. 

Instead of exiting through the front of the bar, Chris headed for the exit at the side of the establishment, mimicking Jared‘s last known steps before his kidnapping. 

“Remain alert, but don’t appear as though you are looking for trouble,” Rossi instructed, “Remember you’re just innocently heading to your car without a care in the world,” he concluded. 

Chris huffed disgustedly as his lips curved into a sardonic smile of contempt, “He wishes,” he scoffed under his breath.

Pushing open the side door, Chris stepped from the low lights and smoky air of the bar and into the street lamp lit night. A soft breeze blew in from the east, tousling the long strands of his hair as he made his way across the open alleyway that ran along side the building and over to the parking lot where the car that the department had loaned him sat waiting, parked in the second to the last parking space at the end of the lot. 

“Yeah, nothing like being obvious,” he mumbled to himself noting how the car, parked where it was like the police had instructed him, and those around it seemed to be the only few bathed in complete darkness despite the street and lot lights. 

Reaching the car, he took his time fishing the keys from his front jeans pocket in the hope that maybe if he took longer the killer might come out of hiding. His head pivoted as he searched the area around him for movement or anything out of the ordinary before sighing heavily with regret. 

“Guys,” he murmured as he inserted the key into the door lock, “I think this thing’s a bust…”

Those were the last words that Chris got out before he found himself in the tight embrace of the killer. One of the psychopath’s hands held the razor sharp blade of a knife pressed against his throat while the other wielded a drug filled syringe, the needle moving swiftly toward Chris’ neck. 

Chris’ lip curled up into a sneer as he grit his teeth, jaw clenched in anger as he quickly moved, lifting one arm and grabbing the wrist of the killer’s hand in which he held the syringe while Chris’ other hand lifted to the sociopath’s arm wrapped around him and pressing the knife blade to his neck. He struggled against the man’s grasp, tugging diligently at the arm that was curled around his body. The arm of his hand holding the needle at bay trembled and his face flushed a deep red with his efforts. 

“Shit! Son of a bitch, we can’t get a clean shot from here,” Derek swore irritatedly from where he was perched rooftop along with one of the officers from the local SWAT team. 

“Chris, we need you to duck down outta the way,” Hotchner instructed. 

“Workin’,” Chris grunted, “at it,” he growled as he continued to wrestle with the unsub. 

Giving up on trying to pull the psychopath’s arm down from around him, Chris lowered his bent arm and swung it backward hard, his elbow finding its mark in the man’s solar plexus. His elbow struck him twice before Chris pivoted out of the sociopath’s grip, twisting the wrist of the man’s hand which held the syringe, forcing him to release his grip. As the syringe fell to the ground, Chris pulled back a fisted hand and punched the guy in the face. Upon releasing his hold on the killer’s wrist, Chris followed the first punch directly with a left handed undercut.

The elbows to his solar plexus had caused the attacker to fold nearly in half which was how Chris had managed to break free of his hold. Each punch knocked the man’s mask more askew and sent his assailant stumbling backward. 

Widening his stance, Chris tauntingly waved his attacker toward him, “You wan’ a piece’a me?” he snarled, “Come on!” 

“Chris, stand down and get out of the way,” Hotchner demanded sternly. 

Regaining his balance the killer growled with rage and rushed Chris, knife lifted high into the air as he prepared to strike. 

Despite having heard Agent Hotchner of the wire insist that he back down, Chris couldn’t seem to find it in himself to do so. Knowing that this bastard had taken Jared, that he was the one causing all of Jensen’s anguish and pain, Chris saw red and all he could think about, all that he could focus on was the burning desire, the _need_ to beat this son of a bitch to death. 

Grabbing the wrist of the hand in which he wielded the knife; Chris purposefully lifted a leg between them, his knee connecting forcefully with the guy’s stomach. The moment his foot landed back down on the asphalt Chris pulled back his right fist, punching the guy once again in the face while keeping a tight grip on the man’s opposite wrist. He continued to punch the assailant over and over even as he collapsed onto the concrete. 

“Chris, **get. out. of. the way**!” Hotchner commanded forcefully. 

“Ya like that, huh?” Chris taunted, “It’s a whole new ballgame when you’re on the receiving end of pain, isn’t it, you son of a bitch,” he snarled. 

The man in the black mask and hoodie groaned in agony as he panted his breaths and slowly turned over so that he could look up at Chris. 

“I’ll kill you,” he rasped hoarsely. 

“Nah,” Chris retorted with a shake of his head as he glared disgustedly down at his attacker, “I don’t think so,” he sneered. 

Swiftly, before Chris had the chance to see it or respond, the man moved his leg in a sweeping motion, knocking against Christian’s legs, sending him off balance and causing him to not only release his hold on the assailant’s wrist but to fall backward, his back slamming against the side of the car. Scrambling to his feet the man ran, ducking into the shadows along side buildings and property fences that encompassed the area as he headed into the alleyway. 

It only took a second for Chris to regain his sense of balance and as soon as he did he took off after his assailant, leather jacket and long hair flying out behind him as he ran. 

“Get back here, I’m not done bashin’ in your ugly face!” Chris snarled mockingly. 

“Morgan, you and Rossi go get our unsub,” Hotchner directed sharply, “Prentiss you come with me,” he commanded. 

Agent Prentiss eyed Hotchner a moment in confusion, “Where are we going?” 

“To get Chris and bring him back before he does any more damage,” he replied tersely.

“I don’t see what the problem is, if you guys hadn’t interfered I could’a had him,” Chris protested as he and the others walked back into the police station. 

“Oh yeah right, you could’a had him,” Agent Morgan quipped irritatedly. “Admit it, you were foolish and reckless,” he snapped. 

Hearing the commotion out in the hall, Jensen hurried from the conference room, “What the hell happened out there?” he demanded. “Penelope said you went rogue on them,” he accused.

Chris scoffed as he shook his head disgustedly, “I had him, Jen, I friggin’ had his ass and then these guys run in and tackle _me_ like I was the bad guy,” he replied incredulously, “They let the Damn fucker get away,” he spat. 

“Agent Morgan along with other members of the police department gave chase,” Hotchner retorted. 

Brow furrowed in confusion, Jensen’s gaze swung to Hotchner, “You what?” he questioned skeptically. 

“Your friend decided to be a hero and attack the unsub,” Prentiss cut in. 

“And the problem with that is?” Jensen inquired with a lift of his brows. 

“The problem is we don’t need a hero,” Aaron replied, “What we needed was someone who was willing to help, that had Jared’s best interests in mind. Apparently that was not what we got.”

With a growl of anger, Chris rushed Hotchner, grabbing him by the front of his expensive suit jacket and dress shirt and slamming him back against the wall, his face in Hotchner’s. 

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth,” Chris growled, “These are my friends and my intentions were exactly what they should have been.” 

A moment later police officers separated the two and slamming Christian up against the opposite wall. 

“It’s alright,” Agent Hotchner assured as he pulled from the wall and straightened out his clothes, “Let him go.” 

“I want you to understand what happened out there, Chris,” Hotchner began, “Due to this man’s narcissistic tendencies angering him in any way may very well make the difference in the outcome of this case,” Hotchner replied dryly. 

The blank looks coming from the two men in front of Agent Hotchner were almost amusing, that is until the moment that the meaning of those words became clear, then it wasn’t so amusing anymore. 

“You - you mean Jared could die…because of what happened tonight?” Jensen inquired incredulously.

Blinking away the sting of tears, Jensen gazed beseechingly into the Agent’s eyes, silently pleading with him, begging him to say it wasn’t what he’d meant, that tonight had no bearing on his Jared’s wellbeing, that they were still hopeful, that there was every change they would get Jared back safe and sound. 

A muscle in Agent Hotchner’s jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth, his eyes darted between the two men before settling on Jensen’s face. With a heavy sigh of regret he gave a small curt nod to Jensen’s inquiry.

“It’s quite possible, yes,” he replied pragmatically. 

Feeling as though he’d been sucker punched, all the air seemed to leave his lungs at once. Doubling over, he lifted a trembling hand, fingertips pressing against his softly parted lips. His eyes darted unseeingly back and forth as the realization came over him that he may never again see his Jared’s smile, hear his laughter, taste his lips or feel of his touch. He shook his head slowly as he began to hyperventilate while tears slipped silently from his eyes making salty tracks down his cheeks. 

Chris, Hotch and Prentiss all went for Jensen at once; Christian wrapped a comforting arm around his friend while Hotch and Prentiss helped him to guide Jensen over to a nearby bench. 

“Jensen, you need to calm down,” Prentiss instructed methodically as she and Hotch both knelt in front of Jensen. 

“We need a paper bag,” Hotch mumbled before turning his head and calling out, “Can someone get us a paper bag over here?” 

He turned a moment later after being handed a small paper bag, handing it to Jensen. 

“Here Jensen, breathe into this,” he murmured. 

“It’s gonna be okay, buddy, we’re gonna get Jared back,” Chris promised. 

Jensen turned his head as he slowly lowered the paper bag from his mouth; his nearly vacant eyes meeting Chris’ blue ones, “Why?” He asked brokenly as he choked back a sob.

“Why did you have to push him?” he asked as he shook his head slowly, “Why?” 

“Jen, I nearly had him,” Chris argued, “I - I was trying to help…I saw that bastard and…I dunno,” he declared, lowering his gaze as he shook his head thoughtfully. 

Slowly lifting his gaze, his eyes met Jensen’s once more, “I just saw red, man,” he explained with a shrug, “You know I’d never do anything to hurt you,” he insisted. 

“Agent Hotchner,” called the female police officer at the telephones, “there’s a call for you.”

“I’m busy, take a message,” Hotch responded. 

“Sir, I think you’ll want to take this one,” she pressed. 

Brow knitted in annoyance, Agent Hotchner turned toward the woman as he pulled to his full height, “Didn’t I just say that I…”

“He claims he’s the Picasso Mangler,” the woman interrupted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serial killer is targeting dark haired muscular male actors. When Jared is kidnapped and his wife brutally murdered in their home, it’s the men and women of the FBI’s BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit)’s job to figure out how to find him before Jared joins this mad man’s growing list of deceased victims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve Cortese-Padalecki DIES in this fiction. If you are a Fan of Genevieve's you may wish to PASS on this fiction. PLEASE BE ADVISED. 
> 
> Fiction was written for the CROSS BIG BANG on LiveJournal in 2012. 
> 
> A special thanks goes to Jeff Davis for the creation of Criminal Minds, the set up and some of the words used within this fiction. A special thanks also goes out The Mark Gordon Company and CBS Television/ABC Studios. 
> 
> As for the fiction itself, I realize I am crossing genres here, however I couldn’t see this as a Supernatural/ Criminal Minds crossover - it just didn’t fit with how the victims in Criminal Minds usually are. I hope that regardless of that fact you enjoy the story told herein. **Note:** Author has taken liberties with some of the information in this story, please be advised.

Alone once more in the semi darkness, Jared tried to focus on something besides the terrible throbbing pain in the side of his face and along his jaw, his eye. He could still feel the tackiness of his blood caked to the tattered flesh and along his ear. His chest heaved with his harshly panted breaths, each one pushed from his lungs in hard pain laced grunts. He flexed his fingers as he half heartedly struggled against the fastenings that held him immobile. His survival instinct demanded that he try for freedom despite knowing deep down that his efforts were in vain. 

He was no longer fooling himself with the notion that he might survive, that somehow some way he might be rescued or actually manage to escape. He knew that sooner or later the madman who held him would grow bored and kill him, just as he had Genevieve. His only wish was that he could see Jensen one last time and tell him just how much he loved him. 

“Jensen,” he croaked sluggishly. 

He rolled his head weakly to the side, cheek pressing against the metal slab on which he laid. His eyes slid slowly closed, although one eyelid, the one that was on side of his face in which his captor had brutally butchered barely moved at all. 

In his mind he was no longer held prisoner, and the air around him was no longer stale, he was no longer bound or in pain. Instead he was laying in a king size bed, the sheets cool and crisp with pillows stacked high; and next to him, with the warmth of his naked body spooned up against the length of his own, was Jensen. It was the weekend after they’d finished shooting the last episode of season six and they had flown to Hawaii to celebrate together in private. 

_Jared groaned softly and his head slid against the pillow as his back and neck arched, hips rolling wantonly at the pleasurable combination of Jensen trailing soft kisses along the nape of his neck and his hand sliding teasingly along the length of Jared’s shaft. His breath hitched and his dick pulsed as Jensen brushed his thumb across the sensitive head, smearing the precome that had pearled there._

_“Jen,” he breathed thickly._

_A low moan tore from Jensen’s throat and his lips curved into an impish grin against his lover’s neck as his own hips rolled, causing his hard cock to slide along the cleft of Jared’s ass._

_“Mmmmmm, Jare,” he breathed huskily before first catching his bottom lip between his teeth then scraping them across the plump tender flesh as he released it, “Want inside you so bad…”_

_Reaching back with one hand as he turned his head toward Jensen, Jared wrapped his arm around his lover’s neck and pulled him as he stretched his neck upward and captured his lover’s mouth with his own, kissing Jensen’s hungrily. A low desirous moan tore from his throat as his tongue slipped into Jensen’s mouth, sliding alongside Jensen’s own._

_Jensen’s fisted hand stroked along the length of Jared’s cock as they kissed, the edge of his thumb catching along the sensitive head with each upward glide of his fist. He gave an answering moan of his own as he flicked his tongue along the roof of Jared’s mouth before capturing his lover’s tongue, sucking at it softly._

_Jared’s hips bucked and ground back against Jensen’s hard cock invitingly as he groaned and his cock pulsed within the cage of his lover’s fingers, precome pearling once again at the tip._

_His lips tore from Jensen’s as he gulped in air, his heavy breaths fanning against his lover’s lips as he gazed wantonly up at him._

_“Jen,” he breathed huskily, “please,” he pleaded as he ground his ass back against Jensen’s hard length._

_“Wan’ you, need you,” he panted desirously._

_With one last stroke of his fisted hand along Jared’s cock, Jensen released his lover’s dick and reached down between them. Wrapping his hand around his own cock, he ran the tip of it up and down along the crack of Jared’s ass before teasingly bumping the head of his dick lightly against the tightly puckered skin of Jared’s hole._

_“Is this what you want?” he asked teasingly, his voice husky with arousal._

_Jared sucked in a breath before a low, needy groan tore from his throat and he wantonly pushed back against the feel of his lovers cock at his hole._

_“God, yessss,” he breathed, drawing out the sound of the ‘s’ like a snake._

_Jensen’s lips curved into a smug smirk before he captured his own bottom lip between his teeth as he gave his dick a long slow stroke and a low answering groan tumbled from his throat._

_Jared turned his head as far as he could in an attempt at looking back at Jensen, a soft moan escaping him at the sight of Jensen’s hand wrapped around his own dick and the desirous look on his handsome features, his eyes lust blown and hooded with want._

_“God, Jen,” he breathed softly._

_Jensen’s gaze darted up, his eyes locking with Jared’s, lips curving into a devilish grin._

_“See something’ you wan’, baby?”_

_Jared nodded, “Hell yeah, I do,” he breathed, his words eliciting a soft husky chuckle from Jensen._

_“Pass me the lube,” Jensen replied with a nod toward the bottle lying on the mattress in front of Jared._

_Grabbing up the bottle, Jared passed it back to Jensen who reached for it with his free hand._

_Popping the cap open with his thumb Jensen released his dick and poured some of the slippery liquid into his palm. Rubbing his hands together he grabbed his own cock once more and slid his lubed hand up and down his length, smearing the slippery liquid. With his opposite hand he reached down between them and rubbed two lubed fingers over his lover’s hole before easing a single digit just past the tightly puckered entrance._

_“You’re so tight, baby,” he breathed softly as his eyes practically rolled back in his head at the thought of just how exquisitely tight his lover was._

_A softly breathed grunt passed Jared’s lips as he pushed back against Jensen’s finger causing him to shiver with barely contained lust._

_“God, Jen, wanna feel you inside me,” he breathed desirously._

_Jensen pushed his finger in further, past the first and second knuckle before pulling back until it was nearly out then pushed it back in up to the third knuckle, quirking it._

_Writhing with need, a low wanton moan tore from Jared’s throat as he pushed back against his lover’s finger. He reached for his own cock with one hand, wrapping his fingers around his length, stroking his hand along his shaft. His hips bucked, thrusting his cock forward into his fisted hand then pushing back against the finger that Jensen had lodged in his ass._

_Stroking his fisted and lubed hand along the length of his own dick, Jensen’s head lolled back as a low groan broke from deep in his throat and his eyes slipped closed. His head lifted a moment later and his eyes slid open as he continued to move his finger within the tight glove of Jared’s ass, pulling it back and thrusting the single digit in deep before once again quirking it to slide the tip of his finger against his lover’s prostate._

_Low and lustful moans mixed with soft grunted groans broke from Jared’s throat as his lover massaged his prostate and finger fucked his ass, while he continued to stroke his fisted hand along the length of his cock._

_Pulling his finger nearly out of Jared’s body, Jensen slipped a second finger in along with the first then moved the two digits back and forth within the tight heat of his lover’s body before scissoring them. Pushing the two digits in deep, he quirking them both, sliding the tips of his fingers against the small gland deep within Jared’s ass._

_“Oh God, babe,” Jared groaned as his body writhed, precome pearling at the tip of his dick which he smeared along his length as he continued to stroke his fisted hand along the length of his cock._

_“Wan’ me, baby?” Jensen breathed huskily._

_“God yes,” Jared begged wantonly._

_Jensen’s lips curved into a desirous smile and a low grunted moan tore from between his lips. Precome pearled at the tip of his cock which he smeared along his length, mixing with the lube which already slicked his dick. Turning his attention to his lover’s ass, he eased his two fingers from within Jared’s body and lined up the blunt tip of his cock with Jared’s tightly puckered hole._

_A soft whimper broke from Jared’s lips at the loss of his lover’s fingers, but he bit at his bottom lip to stifle the sounds of complaint knowing what was about to fill their void._

_Jensen nudged at the entrance of his lover’s ass with the tip of his dick then slowly slid inside, past the fist ring of muscle then the second, carefully easing his way inside his lover until his cock was buried to the hilt deep inside Jared’s tight heat._

_A low groan broke from Jensen’s throat and his eyes squeezed tightly closed before he lowered his head, kissing messily at the nape of his lover’s neck._

_“Tell me when to move, baby,” he whispered wantonly._

_“Move,” Jared groaned, his own eyes having nearly rolled back in his head as his lover’s thick cock filled his ass._

_Jensen didn’t need to be told twice, immediately pulling his hips back and pushing forward, sliding his cock slowly in and out of the tight glove of his lover’s ass._

_“Oh God baby,” Jensen breathed desirously, “You’re so fuckin’ tight,” he groaned softly as he continued to move his hips._

_Jared’s head lolled back, leaning against Jensen’s shoulder as his eyes slipped closed, his hips rocking in time to his lover’s gentle thrusts, while his hand continued to move along the length of his own dick._

_“Yeah,” he gently breathed, “so full,” he sighed softly, “Feels so good, Jen…”_

_“God yeah,” Jensen agreed breathlessly. “Love you, baby,” he breathed._

_“Love you too, Jen,” Jared whispered huskily._

The slamming of the door above him startled Jared out of his reverie, his eyes snapping open, widening fearfully as his attacker marched angrily toward him. It was hard to miss the way his assailant’s mask sat askew on his face, parts of the thick black plastic broken and chipped away. 

“That bastard!” the sociopath roared as he grabbed a metal pipe from where it’d been leaning against one wall. 

Swinging the pipe, he bashed it against the wall in a fit of rage which caused Jared to flinch and shrink back against the table. 

“They think they can fuck with me?!” the madman raged at the top of his lungs. 

Reaching up with his free hand the sociopath snatched off his mask from its askew position and flung it down on the floor, his lips twisted with rage. 

Jared’s eyes widened and he gasped in a soft breath when he was presented with the first real look he’d ever had of the man who held him prisoner, the same man who had demolished one side of his face. The burned and mutilated appearance of his assailant’s face was not only as horrific as anything Jared had ever seen in a horror movie, it also planted a deep seated fear for his own well being, beyond the certainty of his own death, Jared feared that perhaps this madman which had already begun mutilating his face might very well continue his tortuous butchering of his body until there was nothing left for his friends, his family, his _lover_ to recognize. 

Jared’s gaze tracked his attacker as he stormed angrily across the room, pipe still held in one hand. 

Reaching the computer that sat a few feet away from where Jared lay bound and at the madman’s mercy, the psychopath turned on the video camera that was set up along side the computer. 

“I’ll show them what happens to people when they try and screw with me,” he sneered breathlessly as he snatched up the telephone receiver from its place next the computer.

“Transfer the call into our office,” Hotchner directed as he turned and started down the hall. 

Jensen stared in shocked befuddlement as he watched Agent Hotchner walk away, the words, _“He says he’s the Picasso Mangler,”_ playing over and over in his head. 

It was him; it was the bastard that held his Jared. He blinked owlishly a couple times before he turned his head and found himself staring into Christian’s eyes which were nearly as wide as his own. They both seemed to move at once as they swiftly stood to their feet and quickly followed Agent Hotchner down the hall and into the conference room where Misha, Danneel and Sandy sat sleeping in chairs and along the couch. 

The commotion of the two men rushing into the room along with the Agents had the others stirring from their slumber. 

“What’s going on?” Danneel asked sleepily as she sat up on the couch that she and Sandy were sharing. 

“The killer called wanting to talk to Agent Hotchner,” Chris explained.

Danneel’s eyes snapped open wide and she immediately pulled to her feet, “What?” she inquired incredulously, “You mean _here_ , _now_?” 

Chris nodded, “Yeah, seems that way,” he mumbled. 

Frowning thoughtfully with his head tilted slightly to one side in a very Castiel like pose, Misha pulled from the chair in which he’d been sitting, standing to his feet. He leisurely made his way over to the large conference table where the members of the BAU were gathering in preparation for the call. 

“Huh,” Misha mumbled pensively, “This is either a very good thing or a very, very bad thing.” 

“Let’s just hope it’s the former,” Chris remarked. 

Misha nodded in agreement as he stepped up along side Jensen and lifted a hand, placing it on one of Jensen’s shoulders.

“How you holdin’ up?” he murmured worriedly. 

Jensen slowly tore his eyes away from Agent Hotchner and looked over at Misha as he gave his head a slow shake. His red rimmed eyes; complete with black bags beneath gave testament to Jensen’s response to the negative. 

Misha sighed softly and pressed his lips tightly together, frowning with concern for his friend as he nodded his understanding. 

“Alright, we’re ready when you are,” Agent Rossi said once they had everything set up for tracing the call. 

Agent Hotchner turned his attention to Jensen and gave a nod, “You might not want to be in here…” he advised. 

Jensen shook his head as his gaze darted between the Agent and the speaker phone sitting in the middle of the table. 

“No, I’m not leaving,” he mumbled, lowering his gaze back to the phone. 

“Go ahead, answer it,” he directed with a nod. 

Agent Hotchner’s lips pressed into a tight line as he nodded to Jensen before he lowered his attention to the telephone and gave a nod for Agent Morgan to press the button on the speaker. 

“This is Agent Hotchner,” Aaron spoke as soon as the call was engaged. 

“You think you can screw with me,” the sociopath growled. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Agent Hotchner replied as he lifted his gaze chastisingly to Chris, mouth pressed into a firm line of disapproval. 

Jared’s assailant swung the pipe in his hand and let it go flying across the small space in which he was imprisoned, crashing against the wall with a loud enough bang for it to be heard over the telephone. 

“Don’t lie to me!” he screamed into the telephone receiver that he held in one hand. 

“You think you’re so clever,” he sneered, “You think that your little scheme bothered me? That I’m afraid of the high and mighty FBI Agent Aaron Hotchner!?” he bellowed. 

“Yes, Agent, I know who you are,” he affirmed with a nod of his head, “I know all about you and your _team_ ,” he growled contemptuously. 

“And now,” he began his voice calmer now, “I want you to tell Jared Padalecki‘s parents that it was you that caused their son to suffer,” he sneered viciously. “I want you…to tell Jensen Ackles that the reason his lover is dead, the reason that I had to make him suffer, is because you tried to pull a fast one on the Picasso Mangler.” 

“Alright, I know what happened, but that was a mistake,” Aaron said calmly, “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. We know how clever you are,” he replied, playing on the unsub’s narcissistic need for superiority. 

The psychopath scoffed and shook his head, “You’re right about one thing, I am better than you. I have more power than you. In fact, I want you,” he began as he pressed the speaker button on the telephone then put down the receiver and crossed the short distance over to where Jared lay immobile, “to see what I am going to do,” he continued, “I want you…to watch Jared _die_ ,” he snarled menacingly. 

Jensen hands flexed where they hung at his sides, curling and uncurling into fists and his body trembled slightly, his breathing becoming labored as he struggled to choke down his emotions, while struggling to gulp in enough air. His eyes widened to the size of saucers as he listened to the maniac on the other end of the line talk about killing, torturing Jared to death while they watched. 

“Don’t you fucking touch him, you son of a bitch!” he snarled.

His teeth clenched with anger and his hands curled into tight fists at his sides as he started toward the table, his focus locked on the black speakerphone sitting in the center of the large conference table. 

Jared’s head rolled against the cold metal slab on which he lay, turning in the direction in which he had heard his lover’s voice. 

“Jensen?” he croaked weakly, the single word spoken too softly to be heard over the line. 

Misha and Chris quickly grabbed hold of Jensen by the shoulders, pushing back against him in an attempt to keep him from doing something that he might regret or even simply punching the damn speaker phone in a blind rage due to what the bastard was suggesting.

The man on the other end of the line laughed in answer to Jensen’s fury, “Mr. Ackles, so nice to hear from you again,” he responded with amusement, “Your plea for Jared’s safe return amused me and had Agent Hotchner not tried to trick me earlier I might have been persuaded to do as you’d asked, now however I’m going to make Jared pay for what happened,” he remarked coolly. 

“Hey,” Chris barked, brow creased in an angry frown, “You son of a bitch, they had nothing to do with what I did,” he argued. 

“Never the less,” the madman replied simply, “It’s Jared who’s here. Perhaps had you not thought to try and get the upper hand…”

“You mean had I not kicked your ass,” Chris growled.

Agent Hotchner’s gaze snapped back to Chris once more, lips pressed firmly together and brow creased in disapproval. 

“Chris,” he snapped softly. 

“He started it,” Chris argued, brow still knitted angrily. 

“Chris,” Jensen whispered beseechingly. 

It was the unspoken plea for him to stop that he heard as clear as a bell in his best friend’s voice that silenced Chris’ arguments though a soft huff of irritation escaped him as he turned away from the table, one hand braced on his hip while the other lifted to run downward over his mouth in a gesture of frustration. 

“I think if you’ll find something of interest were you to log onto Truedeaths.com, it’s a website that I started a few months ago which has become quite popular with a certain _unique_ clientele,” the psychopath nearly purred. 

“Garcia,” Hotchner commanded. 

“I hear and obey,” Penelope responded, her voice coming in through from Derek’s cell. 

Agent Morgan had called her on his cell the moment that the call from the psychopath had come through so that she could listen in on the conversation from her position a few doors down in the tech room of the police station where she sat doing her brand of magic; her fingers flew across the keyboard as she tried to locate exactly where the call was originating from as well as handling any other business that the team would need her to do, such as logging onto the website that the sociopath had mentioned.

Hotchner’s lips pressed into a thin line as he waited anxiously for Penelope to locate and pull up the website in question. 

“What do you want from us?” Aaron inquired, trying to keep the madman on the other end of the phone talking so that they had a better chance of tracing the call and less chance that during it Jared would be harmed. 

At least that was the plan, but then sometimes these psychopaths didn’t play by the rules and those few were the most dangerous ones. 

“Want?” the mangler echoed gleefully with a soft chuckle. 

“I’ve already told you,” he replied simply, “To watch as I slowly filet Jared into teeny tiny pieces.” 

Jensen’s eyes widened in alarm and it suddenly seemed, to him at least, as though all of the oxygen had gone out of the room. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move from the spot in which he stood. His body wasn’t listening to the commands of his brain. In an automatic attempt to steady himself against the dizzying panic that had gripped hold of him, he doubled over; hands pressing against his knees as he hyperventilated in shaky gulps of air that he had no recollection of taking, causing him to continue to struggle against the imagined sensation of suffocation. 

“Jenny Bean?” Danneel called to her husband worriedly as she took a step toward him. 

“Jen,” Chris murmured anxiously as he and Misha moved simultaneously, both reaching for Jensen, one at each side. 

Together, with one holding him at one shoulder the other at his opposite, they pulled Jensen up straight. 

“Dude, you alright?” Chris inquired worriedly, eyes searching his friend’s features. 

Misha’s brows knitted in a very Castiel-like stance as his gaze darted from gazing at Jensen worriedly to staring at Chris as though he’d just admitted to downing demon blood in high volumes. 

“Rather apparent that he’s far from okay,” he mumbled in response. 

Chris glanced Misha’s way, a scowl of annoyance marring his own brow. 

“You know what I mean,” he snapped in irritation. 

“I’m pulling it up on the screen now,” Garcia interjected. 

Her voice drew everyone’s attention away from Jensen though the brow of each agent present remained crinkled with worry over the young man who stood within their midst suffering with the possible loss of his love. They forced themselves instead to focus their attention on what they were good at, on the one thing that may well alleviate Jensen’s heartbreak; finding the son of a bitch responsible and making him pay. With that in mind, the agents collectively focused their attention on the scene displayed before them on the small computer monitor sitting on the table in which they encircled, turned at an angle, facing away from the civilians in the room.

Picking up a blade from the table setting along side the one which held Jared, the sociopath gazed down at his victim, brows lifting in mock concern, “I normally don’t do this kind of thing with any care for showmanship, but since we have such a special audience this time, I thought I’d make an exception. You will tell me if I need to go back and correct anything, won’t you?” he remarked conversationally. 

Jared’s wide terrified eyes darted between the madman’s face and the blade that his assailant held poised over his body. 

“Don’t do this,” he rasped softly. 

His tear filled eyes, which were and wide and beseeching, met and locked with his tormentor’s as Jared tugged and squirmed frantically against the restraints holding him immobile and at the mercy of the psychopathic madman standing over him. His attempts for freedom however were all for naught as the tightly secured leather straps holding him never once gave a single inch despite his best efforts. 

The corner of the madman’s lips curled upward into a menacing smirk as he lowered the blade toward Jared’s struggling body. 

“No,” Jared retorted, shaking his head to the negative. “No, no, no, please, don’t, don’t,” he begged fearfully as he watched the knife descend toward his chest. 

His chest rose and fell heavily with each of his labored breaths which panted out through his softly parted lips. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed and he clenched his teeth, body stiffening as the tip of the cold blade made contact with and then punctured his skin. The pressure that the psychopath applied to the knife drew not only scarlet droplets of blood to the surface but a deep agonized growl from Jared’s throat. Thick rivulets of blood began to spill over Jared’s sides as his assailant drew the deeply embedded blade downward along his body causing crimson ribbons of blood to spill over; decorating Jared’s sides like graffiti.   
.   
Jensen’s attention snapped to the speaker phone at the sound of Jared’s pained growl which echoed within the stillness of the conference room, or at least to Jensen it did. The sound of it being far too close to the same as that of Sam’s agonized screams during his hallucinations which had echoed through the steel walls of the panic room and into Bobby’s study where they’d reached his ears, causing both Jensen and his inner Dean to feel the vibrations of Jared’s cry all the way down to his soul. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Penelope whined softly over the speaker. 

“Turn that,” Jensen directed with a nod toward the small computer screen, “I wanna see.”

Hotchner’s attention lifted from the screen as he slowly shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“No, _you_ don’t,” he responded. 

Jensen nodded stubbornly though his body trembled with anxiety and fear for his beloved, “Yeah, I do,” he retorted, “Please,” he pleaded softly with another nod toward the monitor. 

Hotchner huffed softly, his gaze darting to Rossi almost as though asking for the elder agent’s approval. 

Rossi sat grim faced a moment before his gaze darted over to Jensen then back at Hotchner to whom he gave a nod. 

Heaving a heavy sigh Hotchner relented, “Garcia,” he called, “put it up on the big screen,” he instructed, though his features remained a mask of disapproval. 

His gaze met Jensen and he gave a small curt nod, “No one’s going to think poorly of you if you decide that you can’t watch or don’t want to see anymore,” he murmured. 

Jensen nodded his understanding and thanks before he turned his attention to the large screen that before now had stood blank and dark. Suddenly however, the screen displayed a nearly life size Jared, laying bound to a table, topless, his lower half covered by jogging pants. His body was covered; chest to waist, in his own blood and the right side of his face was mangled, nearly beyond recognition. 

“Oh God, Jare,” he whispered as tears filled his eyes, a few spilling over to slide slowly down his cheeks. 

Chris and Misha remained standing at each of Jensen’s sides, their hands cupping his shoulders in an offering of strength, each of them in their own way; Misha with his quiet Zen and Christian with his Southern home grown rough edges. He thanked God for them, for the way they were each always there when he needed them, like now. 

He sniffled softly, lifting a hand to wipe at his nose as he cleared his throat and swallowed back the trembling sob that threatened to slip free. 

“Jared,” he called, “Can you hear me, baby?” he inquired hopefully. 

Jared’s eyes snapped open despite his earlier resolve to keep them closed against whatever his attacker decided to do to his body. 

Hope, the one thing he had resigned himself to not having, sprang to life within Jared’s chest as his gaze searched out the sound of his beloved’s voice. 

_Jensen’s here, he’s here, they found me,_ his mind and body cried out in unison as he attempted once again to struggle, albeit weakly, against his bonds. 

His heart began to beat faster with anxiousness as his eyes darted about the dimly lit room only to find no trace of Jensen anywhere. 

“Jen?” he groaned only to choke and cough, his breaths wheezing out against the excruciating pain that racked his body. 

Jensen’s entire body trembled along with his bottom lip as he watched Jared on the screen. 

“I’m here baby, I’m with you, Jare, concentrate on my voice,” he urged gently. 

Jared gave a slight nod to Jensen’s words as he once again squeezed his eyes closed against the intense agony that wracked his body. A tear slipped down Jared’s mangled cheek and disappeared into the hair at his temple. 

At that same moment, another tear made its way slowly down Jensen’s cheek, following the same salty path that his prior tears had taken. 

The maniac slowly withdrew the knife, setting it carefully back down on the long table beside him once he’d finished filleting open Jared’s skin. After releasing the knife onto the table, the psychopath returned his attention to Jared a cruel smile toying at his lips as he reached down with both hands and carefully began peeling away the flesh from Jared’s bones, oblivious to the cries of pain that ripped from his victim’s throat and echoed back at them within the close quarters. 

Jared’s agonized screams tore through Jensen’s gut like a sucker punch, echoing in not only his ears but quite likely the police station as well. 

“You Sonuvabitch!” Jensen growled through his tightly clenched teeth, tears of helplessness streaming down his cheeks, his hands curled into tight fists at his sides. 

Tears of pain slipped from the corners of Jared’s tightly closed eyes and trickled down the sides of his face, wetting the hair at his temples. His hands curled into tight fists as he struggled with the intensity of his suffering. His body quickly began to tremble from shock and the loss of blood; which gushed down his bare sides and pooled on the metal slab beneath him in thick puddles. 

Danneel gasped in a breath, her honey brown eyes widening as she stared at the screen in shock; tears filling her eyes as she watched the screen in traumatized shock. 

Sandy’s wide, dark, and horrified eyes filled immediately with tears which quickly spilled over, leaving salty streaks own her cheeks. 

Danneel’s gaze darted to Sandy as she felt the other woman step closer, her arm automatically wrapping around Sandy’s shoulders and pulling her in close as the two of them wept softly. 

“Jare,” Jensen murmured brokenly before drawing in a harsh shuddering breath as he choked back a sob. 

“Oh God, baby, m’here,” he soothed. 

“Oh God…” he whined softly as he hung his head a moment, eyes squeezing closed against the image of Jared’s mangled body. 

Sniffling softly, Jensen lifted his head, his red rimmed eyes which glistened and shone with unshed tears locked once more on the wide screen in front of him. Unwilling to look away from his love for long, his desire to be there for Jared as much as possible, even in this small capacity overrode all else; including how horribly watching what the son of a bitch was doing to _his_ Jared tore him apart. 

Chris would swear on a stack of Bibles that it was the dust in the room causing his eyes to turn red and get a little teary as he stood next to Jensen, his hand at his friends shoulder squeezing affectionately in an attempt to say without words that he was there for him. 

Misha on the other hand had stood sniffling for a good ten minutes, since about the time that Jensen had begun with the heavier waterworks. He’d tried for a stiff upper lip as long as he’d been able to, but there’d been something about seeing Jensen nearly come unglued that had done him in and had turned him into a crier. His hand on Jensen’s shoulder had turned from silent manly support to downright loving, massaging caresses; his hand moving from shoulder to back and back to shoulder, over and over again. 

The rise and fall of Jared’s chest stuttered as he drew in shallow shuddering breaths as his body began to tremble violently, the peeled back flesh of his chest exposing raw meaty muscle and bone. 

Trembling with heartbreak and rage, Jensen gulped in shuddering breaths, his head spinning more dizzily with each passing moment. He stubbornly kept his tearful gaze glued to the screen before him despite the way his knees seemed to grow weak and buckle slightly to the extent that he was uncertain as to whether or not they would hold him much longer. 

“Jare, baby?” he whimpered softly, struggling to hold back the sob that had lodged itself in his throat, making it burn. 

“Jare, we’re gonna find you, baby. You hold on for me, you got it?” he instructed hoarsely, giving a curt nod to his own words. 

The madman pulled his hands back, seemingly pleased with his work, if the jack-o‘-lantern smile curling his lips maniacally was anything to go by. He began to hum the soft tune of a lullaby as he continued his torture, reaching for the bloodied knife once more. 

“No,” Jensen whispered as he shook his head, tears slipping down his cheeks unchecked as he watched the sociopath pick the blade back up. “No, please,” he begged softly, “No more…” 

“Stop,” Hotchner commanded, “You’ve made your point.”

The psychopath lifted his head, his attention turning to the camera, “Oh no, Agent Hotchner, I’ve only just begun,” he responded frankly.

Her lime green rimmed glasses sat at the very end of her nose having slid there while she worked; too preoccupied to take the time to push them back up. Penelope Garcia’s fingers flew across the keyboard in front of her in a near frenzy, soft panicked whimpers breaking from her throat as Jared’s torture played out on one of the monitors to her left, urging her on like a time bomb ticking away; begging her not to fail while she toiled anxiously, trying with all of her might, using all of her computer savvy skills to find the exact location in which the unsub was calling. 

“Please show up, please show up,” she pleaded with dismay.

Pained whimpers tumbled from Jared’s throat and his body continued to tremble violently with shock as he lay with his eyes closed, lips pressed in a firm line, jaw clenched against the desire to scream with agony. Blood dripped steadily off the metal slab on which he was bound, painting the bare cement floor a deep scarlet.

The psychopath strolled casually to the end of the table holding Jared at his mercy, the razor sharp knife from earlier still held within his hand. He lifted his attention to the camera once more and smiled with wicked amusement. 

“Do you know how much blood that a human body holds, Agent Hotchner?” He inquired conversationally. 

“Four quarts,” Reid replied automatically. 

Aaron’s attention swung to Spencer who ducked his head and lowered his gaze in response, shrugging apologetically. 

“Very good,” the madman praised, twisted smile still curving his lips.

“And do you know how many quarts a human can loose before death takes them?” He inquired with a lift of his brows. 

Reid opened his mouth to answer only to pause as his gaze met Hotch’s disapproving one. Causing Reid to snap his mouth closed, ducking his head once more.

“Someone? Anyone?” the sociopath offered. 

His lips pressed into a thin line of aggravation when his question went unanswered, “No one?” He growled.

“Since no one seems to feel inclined to answer, I guess we’ll just have to find out then, won’t we?” He bit out irritatedly. 

Lowering his attention to Jared, the psychopath slipped the blade of the knife he held beneath the waistband of Jared’s running pants and began roughly yanking it against the soft material, effectively slicing through the cloth. 

Jared’s blood soaked and mutilated body jerked with each harsh tug of the blade through the material of his pants, eliciting low pained groans to spill from deep in his throat as his head rolled slightly against the metal slab. 

“Stop it!” Jensen bellowed beseechingly, tears streaming unchecked down his cheeks, his teeth clenching against the sobs that wracked his frame. 

“Stop! Just stop, _please_!” he pleaded pathetically. 

His knees finally gave in completely, buckling out from under him, sending Jensen falling to his knees. His head hung down between his shoulder blades which shook with the harshness of his sobs. His tears fell steadily, sliding down his cheeks to his jaw line where they dripped off, to fall along with those off the end of his nose onto the matted carpet beneath him. 

Misha lowered along with Jensen onto his knees next to his friend, his own eyes overflowing with tears as he reached for Jensen, pulling him into his arms. Chris crouched at Jensen’s opposite side and wrapped his arms around both Jensen and Misha, one hand rubbing comfortingly across Jensen’s back as he murmured soothingly; telling Jensen over and over again how strong Jared is, that he will survive this. That Jared knows he’s there, feels his love and that his presence gives Jared more strength, the strength to make it. And he murmured to Jensen not to give up, though he knew his that each word that fell from his lips was nothing more than a hollow comfort. 

Danneel and Sandy had long since been in a tearful huddle in one of the nearby overstuffed chairs, their arms wrapped around one another as they wept. 

“Come on, Baby girl, come on,” Derek urged anxiously as he glanced between the horror that played out on the screen before them and the speaker from which her lovely voice would ring out once she’d found the sorry son of a bitch. 

“Garcia,” Hotchner quipped sternly, his face a mask of harsh lines. 

“I’m trying,” Penelope responded, her words followed up with a frustrated whimper. 

“Good God, he’s not gonna make it,” Prentiss murmured, her wide dark eyes glued to the screen. 

“No, Garcia has to find them,” J. J. argued gently with a shake of her head, “She will,” she murmured with a nod. 

“If she doesn’t find him soon…” Rossi muttered, lips pressing into a thin line.

Once Jared’s pants were ripped from his body, the material shredded into small sections of cloth that the unsub jerked out from under Jared’s prone bloody form, he reached for one of the straps holding Jared’s leg pinned to the table and pried it open. Yanking Jared’s leg up, he hiked it over his hip with one hard while working at the button and zipper of his soiled dungarees with his opposite one. 

Jared groaned, a pained grunt breaking from his throat as his shredded body was manhandled, his eyes sliding open to mere slits that focused groggily on his attacker before slipping back closed despite the humiliation of knowing he was fully exposed. His head rolled limply to one side as a soft disgruntled whimper broke from between his blood incrusted lips. 

Hearing sounds coming from Jared, Jensen lifted his red rimmed and teary eyes to the screen once more only to find himself choking on a sob again as he shook his head. 

“No, you son of a bitch, don’t you fuckin’ touch him!” he roared at the screen though his tears. 

Chris lifted his attention to the screen and a tendon in his clenched jaw twitched as he watched the bastard palm his dick, preparing to sodomize his best friend’s lover. That sight, along with that of Jensen, broken and on his knees, begging the sick son of a bitch to stop caused Chris’ blood to boil and see red. It was a good damn thing that he wasn’t back in the parking lot with the sick son of a bitch now or else the piece of shit would no longer be breathing. 

“Hey you pansy ass mother fucker, why don’t you try tanglin’ with me again, eh?” he shouted at the screen in an attempt to get the bastard’s attention off Jared, at least to some degree. 

The psychopath paused in mid-motion and lifted his gaze from watching as he aligned the tip of his dick with Jared’s hole. His attention turned away from Jared toward the camera and his eyes tightened into mere slits of anger as his lip curled into a sneer. 

“What’s the matter? Wish this was you, Kane?” he growled mockingly. 

Chris scoffed, “Like you’ve got the balls,” he countered disgustedly. 

“What’s the matter, you afraid I’m gonna kick your ass again?” Chris taunted as he slowly rose to his full height, while nodding mockingly to his own words despite the psychopath’s inability to actually see him. 

A slightly smug smirk curled his lips upward at one corner as he noted that he’ managed to do what he’d hoped and get the bastards attention off of Jared and onto him, at least for the time being. 

“Doesn’t look too me like you’ve got much dick either,” Chris remarked tauntingly. 

Jensen’s attention snapped to Chris, he shook his head as he looked up at him with wide horrified eyes. 

“Chris, please,” he begged, afraid that his friend was only going to make matters worse. 

Chris glanced down at Jensen with a curt shake of his head and a gently beseeching look on his face, one that silently begged Jensen to trust him before he quickly returned his attention to the maniac on the screen, unwilling to allow too much time to pass for fear that the sick fuck would get disinterested in him and return his attention to defiling Jared while they all watched. 

“Come on, you sick son of a bitch, name the time and place,” Chris jeered. 

The sociopath lowered Jared’s leg back down onto the table and tucked his dick back into his tattered jeans as he focused his attention more on the camera and the man snarling belligerently at him than on the one slowly bleeding to death on the table in front of him. 

“I hope you’ve been paying attention,” the maniac sneered as he stepped away from Jared and toward the camera, “Because what has happened here is _nothing_ compared to what I am going to do to you,” he threatened viciously. 

“Oh yeah? You think I’m scared of a little piss ant sick son of a bitch like you?” Chris scoffed, a grin toying at the corners of his lips. 

“I’d like to see you try,” he mocked with an indignant huff as he slowly shook his head. 

“Man, you’re dumber than I gave you credit for bein’,” he ridiculed with a soft incredulous chuckle. 

“Guess you liked havin’ me nearly whip your ass,” he concluded, “What is that, like a turn on for sick fucks like you?” he inquired disgustedly. 

“I am going to rip you into so many pieces your own Momma isn’t going to be able to recognize you,” he sociopath growled. 

Chris gave a scoffing laugh, “Oh I’d like to see you try,” he replied with a nod. 

“Come on mother fucker, I already told you, just name the time and place,” he coaxed mockingly. 

“Oh don’t you worry about when… it will happen,” the psychopath assured with a nod as he turned back toward Jared.

Chris’ eyes widened slightly as a sense of panic slammed into him seeing that the maniac seemed to be finished with him and was returning his attention to Jared. 

“Hey!” he yelled, “Don’t turn you’re ugly ass back on me, you disfigured piece of shit!” he commanded. 

The sociopath immediately turned back to face the camera, his mangled face, the side of it rife with burn scars twisted into a look of rage. 

“What did you _say to me_!?!” he bellowed. 

“You heard me,” Chris responded. 

“You think you’re so pretty, each and every one of you,” the sociopath sneered. 

He spun about abruptly, turning his infuriated attention to Jared. Stopping angrily back to the table on which Jared laid, he stopped at the head of it and reached out with one hand, snatching up the knife from the table nearby while with his other hand he roughly grabbed a handful of Jared’s longish mop-like tresses. 

A pained groan broke from Jared’s lips though his eyes remained closed as his head was violently jerked about. 

“Let’s see how pretty he is when I’m through with him,” the sociopath bellowed angrily. 

His face remained twisted in indignation as he began to slice the blade through Jared’s hair, thick sections of the chestnut hued locks fell carelessly, some with sections of scalp still attached and others without, all of which began littering the floor at the psychopath’s feet.

Penelope’s eyes widened behind her lime green glasses and her hot pink hued lips parted in a gasp as she stared at the computer screen before her. 

“I got him,” she murmured to herself, a wide smile slowly curling her lips. “I got him!” she cried out victoriously, her hands lifting from the keypad to curl into joyous fists which she raised in jubilation to each side of her head. 

“Oh yeah, sucker, my kung fu is stronger than yours, you sick freak,” she muttered under her breath as she lowered her hands once more to her keypad, her fingers flying across the keys as she began inputting the data, sending it to every one in the team’s cell phones. 

Hotchner’s cell buzzed, followed by Morgan’s, Rossi’s, Reid’s, Prentiss’ and J. J.’s though Hotch was the first one to pull his cell from his pocket and look down at the tiny screen. 

“She got him,” he announced while pulling to his feet, brow creased in stern lines as he gave a curt nod to the others, “Let’s go.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A serial killer is targeting dark haired muscular male actors. When Jared is kidnapped and his wife brutally murdered in their home, it’s the men and women of the FBI’s BAU (Behavioral Analysis Unit)’s job to figure out how to find him before Jared joins this mad man’s growing list of deceased victims.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Genevieve Cortese-Padalecki DIES in this fiction. If you are a Fan of Genevieve's you may wish to PASS on this fiction. PLEASE BE ADVISED. 
> 
> Fiction was written for the CROSS BIG BANG on LiveJournal in 2012. 
> 
> A special thanks goes to Jeff Davis for the creation of Criminal Minds, the set up and some of the words used within this fiction. A special thanks also goes out The Mark Gordon Company and CBS Television/ABC Studios. 
> 
> As for the fiction itself, I realize I am crossing genres here, however I couldn’t see this as a Supernatural/ Criminal Minds crossover - it just didn’t fit with how the victims in Criminal Minds usually are. I hope that regardless of that fact you enjoy the story told herein. **Note:** Author has taken liberties with some of the information in this story, please be advised.

Jensen’s attention darted toward Hotchner as he rounded the table heading for the door of the conference room. 

“Wait, what?” he inquired in stupefied astonishment as he pulled to his feet. 

“She found him? Garcia found my Jared?” he asked in astonishment. 

Agent Hotchner paused in his tracks to nod in answer, “We’re on our way,” he assured. 

“I want to go with you,” Jensen blurted taking a step toward the agent. 

Hotch shook his head to the negative, “It’s too dangerous, the best thing you can do is wait here,” he retorted. 

“I’m going with you,” Jensen demanded firmly, “If you don’t let me then I’ll get Chris to take me and we’ll follow you,” he retorted brusquely. 

Morgan, who stood in the hall, slipping on his jacket, looked from Jensen to Hotchner, waiting to get his superiors word on whether or not he was going to allow Jensen to ride along. 

Hotch sighed heavily and glanced at Morgan before returning his attention to Jensen with a nod, “Alright, fine,” he allowed, “but you stay out of the way and you listen to what I tell you,” he warned. 

Jensen gave a nod of agreement and understanding before he started to follow the agent out the door. 

“I’m going with him,” Misha announced as he strode across the distance separating him from Jensen. 

“Yeah, me too,” Chris chimed him as he followed along behind Misha. 

“No!” Hotchner barked, his featured pulled into tight lines of disapproval, “I’m not taking all of you along on this, it’s too dangerous,” he replied. 

His gaze swung to Chris as he nodded toward the women, “Chris, you stay here and take care of the women,” he instructed.

Hotchner’s gaze swung to J. J., “Stay here, take care of them,” he ordered gently. 

J. J. nodded her understanding, lips pressed into a thin line. 

Chris’ gaze swung to Jensen for his reaction and at Jensen’s nod he gave one to Hotch, “Yeah, alright,” he agreed with a sigh of resignation. 

“Take care’a my girl for me,” Jensen murmured to Chris as his gaze moved lovingly to Danneel. 

His lips curving into a slight smile of adoration as he looked over at her, which Danneel returned wholeheartedly, nodding her acceptance of his decision and her love.

“Come on, you two are comin’ with me,” Morgan announced to Jensen and Misha as they hurried out the door and over to the two black SUV’s that the department had set aside for the BAU. 

Hotchner nodded to Morgan as he headed for the other Bronco with Reid and Rossi. 

“Fourteen Sixty-three, Warren drive,” Hotchner muttered, repeating the address that Garcia had plugged into their cell phones. 

Morgan nodded as one of the officers hurried over, “I know the area, it’s only about twenty miles from here, just out side of town,” she remarked. 

“She can ride with me,” Morgan offered. 

Aaron nodded, “Alright, lead the way,” he affirmed with a curt nod. 

Morgan waved Jensen and Misha over as he pulled open the side door of the vehicle, watching as Jensen and Misha climbed inside. He then slammed the door closed behind them and ran around to the driver’s side where he climbed in behind the wheel just as Officer Michelle Armstrong, the officer who had spoken to Hotchner and Morgan a moment before climbed into the passenger seat. 

Prentiss pulled the side door open and hurried in along side Jensen and Misha before slamming the door closed once more. 

“Let’s go,” she instructed with a nod as she fastened her seatbelt. 

Looking back at Prentiss, Morgan gave a curt nod in return before turning his attention back out the windshield. 

“Hold on,” he instructed before quickly pressing the accelerator to the floor, sending the Bronco tearing out of the parking lot with the red emergency light flashing in the front window. 

Hotch’s Bronco pulled out behind Derek’s and six police cars tore out of the lot directly after them, all of which had their lights flashing and sirens whaling. 

Misha looked over at Jensen and lifted his brows as he reached across the space that separated the two of them and placed his hand over Jensen’s which clung to the arm of the seat in which he sat in a white knuckled grip. 

Jensen glanced down at their hands before turning his head and meeting Misha’s concerned gaze. 

“I’m okay,” he murmured with a small curt nod. 

Misha’s only reply was to nod his head knowingly while he patted Jensen’s hand before pulling it away, returning his attention to watching out the front window as the Bronco sped down the city streets.

The team of police cruisers and two black Bronco’s made their way out of the city and onto dirt roads that led them into a wooded area; far back from the noise and hustle and bustle of city life. Here it was like another world, one set apart from the more famous one of L.A. A section of the area that the BAU team had yet to see; although they’d seen the type of area a million times before, desolate, out of the way, the perfect place for someone like their unsub to take his victims, a place where there was nothing but the trees to hear the pain filled cries of men. 

Pulling into a dirt and gravel driveway, the house before them ramshackle to say the least, the police cars and the two Bronco’s came to a screeching halt, sirens fading away into silence though the emergency lights continued to flash. The occupants of every vehicle that had pulled into the drive and yard of fourteen-sixty-three Warren quickly poured out of the automobiles, their guns drawn and held at the ready in front of them, a bullet proof vest decorating each of them.

“No, no way,” Morgan barked, shaking his head to the negative when Jensen and Misha started to climb out of the Bronco. 

Jensen lifted his attention to Derek with a shake of his own head, “I’m goin’ in there,” he retorted. 

“No you’re not, not yet,” Morgan argued, “It’s too dangerous, let us secure it before you even think of steppin’ outta that truck,” he commanded.

Jensen sighed heavily in resignation and despite his desire to get to Jared, yielded, offering Derek a curt nod before glancing back at Misha. 

Misha’s eyes darted from Derek to Jensen and finally nodded his agreement once he saw the look of compliance on Jensen’s face. He backed up the way he’d come and flopped down, reclaiming his seat inside the Bronco.

Agent Morgan nodded his approval and then turned and took off across the yard toward the weather beaten house along side Prentiss and Officer Armstrong. 

Morgan led the way to the front door with the other members of the BAU, along with some of the members of the police squad, the ones that weren’t searching the area, following behind him. He kicked in the front door, causing the wood to splinter against the force, the metal deadbolt lock breaking through the rotted framework. 

“FBI!” he shouted as he crossed the threshold, gun cautiously aiming in each direction before he entered further. 

As they slowly made their way through the house it wasn’t long before they realized that there was nothing and no one there even though the call had been coming from this address. 

“The barn?” Derek suggested as he and the other members of the team gathered in the front room of the dilapidated home. 

“I saw a cellar around back,” Officer Armstrong interjected. 

“Would explain the size of the area where our unsub was holding Jared,” Rossi reasoned with a nod and a slight shrug of one shoulder.

“Cellar?” Hotchner echoed with a definitive nod. 

He turned and rushed out the door headed around the side of the house to the back where there were two metal doors leading downward into the ground reminiscent of ones that what would normally be used to close off a storm shelter.

Jensen sat in the Bronco with his face half pressed against the glass of one of the windows like a little kid trying to catch a glimpse of Santa on Christmas Eve. He sighed dejectedly with defeat as he slowly pulled away from the window and turned his attention to Misha as he reached for the door handle of the Bronco. 

“I’m going out there, I can’t just sit here like this and do nothing,” he remarked stubbornly. 

“Jen, Derek said for us to stay put,” he replied as he reached for Jensen’s hand grasping the metal handle of the door. 

“I’m certain that Agent Morgan will tell you when they get Jared outta there,” he responded sagely. 

Jensen shook his head, lips pressed into a firm line, a muscle in his jaw twitching, the look on his face reminding Misha very much of the character that his friend portrayed. He sighed heavily and released his hold on Jensen’s hand as he gave a nod. 

“Alright,” he allowed gently, “But I’m goin’ with you,” he responded.

Jensen nodded and clicked open the door, pushing it open wide as he rose from his seat and climbed out of the Bronco with Misha following along behind him. 

Standing outside the vehicle, the two of them watched as Agent Hotchner led the team around the back of the house. 

“C’mon, Mish,” Jensen mumbled as he glanced back at his friend before taking off at a jog, following the agents around the side of the house. 

“It’s locked,” Officer Armstrong commented as she stepped back from the doors. 

“Stand back,” Hotch responded, pointing his 9mm Glock at the doors. 

He shot off a round at the locked doors and at the sound of something breaking he pulled his gun up and nodded to Rossi to try the doors again. 

David Rossi stepped forward and reached for the handles on the door, slowly easing them open and then quickly moving back as he threw them open wide. Hotchner however quickly moved forward and started down the steps into the cellar. 

The lighting was dim inside the cellar making it hard to see but the floodlights from the police cruisers above added some assistance, enough that as he reached the fourth step down he turned and froze with his gun aimed at the unsub who was kneeling on the metal slab over Jared’s bloody prone form, the sharp knife he’d been using before raised high above his head, poised and ready to thrust into Jared’s chest. 

“FBI,” he barked loudly, “Freeze!” 

The unsub turned his head toward Aaron, a sneer of hatred twisting his lips as his eyes made contact with the Agent. He ignored the warning however and began plunging the knife downward, toward Jared’s heart. 

Agent Hotchner didn’t hesitate and immediately opened fire. Four rounds went off in rapid succession as Aaron refused to stop firing until the unsub tumbled lifelessly to the floor, his body sprawled; laying off to one side of the table that held Jared’s body immobile. 

“I need a medic down here _now_!” Hotchner yelled as he descended the steps slowly, his gun remaining poised to shoot, aiming at the unsub’s fallen body. 

He cautiously made his way over to the fallen unsub’s body where he nudged the man’s leg with one dress shoe clad foot. When the man didn’t respond, Hotchner crouched as he shifted his gun to just one hand and reached out with the other, feeling the side of the madman’s neck for a pulse. Not finding one, the agent pulled to his full height, his face pulled into grim lines, lips pressed tightly together as he gazed down at the dead man on the floor. 

Heaving a heavy sigh, he turned and crossed the short distance separating himself from Jared’s prone, naked and blood soaked body. He sheathed his gun back into his back shoulder holster then reached out to feel for a pulse against the side of Jared’s crimson painted, tacky throat. 

The call went out for an ambulance as Jensen dashed toward the open cellar, pushing his way past officers while dodging others with Misha working as his defensive line behind him. The two of them started down the steps just as Derek caught sight of them, his eyes widening in disbelief and annoyance. 

“Shit!” he spat before taking off after them. 

“Wait!” he shouted as he ran, one hand on his now holstered gun, “You can’t go in there!” 

Jensen came to a screeching halt as he reached the bottom of the steps, his wide eyed horrified gaze locked on the scarlet coated body of _his_ Jared. 

Misha hurriedly descended the steps behind Jensen, a triumphant grin curling his lips due to their having reached their destination despite the fact that as he glanced back over his shoulder he saw Agent Morgan chasing after them with the intent of stopping them. Reaching the bottom of the ladder like steps, he nearly crashed into Jensen due to how unceremoniously Jensen had stopped dead in his tracks just past the last rung. Breaths panting from between his softly parted lips, his smile still held firmly in place, Misha reached out to brace himself against his friend’s shoulders so that he wouldn’t bowl Jensen over. His smile faded away upon gazing expectantly into Jensen’s face. His eyes swung away from his friend, following Jensen’s appalled stare over to Jared, a soft gasp breaking past his lips at the sight. 

Jensen lifted his hands to Misha’s and gently pushed them away from his shoulders, his gaze glued to Jared as he turned slightly and began to stumble step toward his love. His lips trembled as he struggled to hold back the sob that has welled up, burning his throat as it threatened to break free. Tears stung his eyes as they filled them, a few slipping away from his grasp to roll down his cheeks. 

Hotchner’s attention rose from where it had been focused on Jared when Jensen and Misha rushed into the cellar. He watched with disapproval as Jensen moved toward Jared, one arm lifted as he reached out for the man lying motionless on the table. 

“Misha, get him outta here,” Hotchner ordered curtly. 

Misha’s eyes slowly rose to Hotch’s though he remained rooted where he stood; his traumatized gaze slowly lowering back to Jared, watching as Jensen crossed the distance over to him. 

Jensen choked on a sob as his hand slowly slid back against the side of Jared’s face that was still in one piece, cupping it tenderly. Tears fell freely down his cheeks as his face crumbled, brow furrowing with anguish and heartbreak. 

“Oh God, Jare…” he whimpered softly as his eyes roamed the length of Jared’s body only to return to his mutilated face once more. 

He sucked in a shaky breath and sniffled, his entire body trembling with the force of his sorrow. He lifted his gaze to Hotchner who stood across from him on the other side of the table. 

“Is he…?” he inquired, hiccupping in a breath afterward before swallowing hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

Agent Hotchner shook his head, “He’s alive,” he responded, “barely.” 

Jensen gulped in a trembling breath, his lips curling into a wounded smile as he chuckled through his tears, returning his attention to Jared. 

“Hold on for me, Jare,” he whispered. “Don’t leave me,” he begged, sniffling again. 

He slowly leaned in and dipped his head, pressing a soft tender kiss to Jared’s forehead, mindless of the crimson stain that smeared his lips. 

“S’gonna be okay, baby,” he murmured against the blood soaked skin. 

Derek rushed down the steps a second later followed by Prentiss, Rossi and Reid. His attention snapped to Hotchner and the two men in front of him as Morgan stepped off the last step. 

“Blankets,” Aaron commanded as his gaze met those of his team. 

Prentiss and Reid quickly turned back, disappearing hurriedly up the steps. They returned a moment later, both carrying large folded blankets which they shook out as they reached the bottom of the steps and headed over to Jared and their superior. 

Hearing footfalls drawing closer, Jensen’s head turned briefly, looking back at the agents. He rose to his full height from where he’d been leaning over Jared and stepped to one side, having noted the blankets that they held in their hands. He stubbornly kept his hand where it was, lovingly cradling Jared’s cheek as he watched the agent’s cover his Jared’s body. 

After they had managed to allot Jared a modicum of decency, covering his naked body with one of the blankets, Hotchner took the other and used it to press firmly against the long gash that ran from the center of Jared’s chest to his stomach in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. 

Without needing to be told Agent Rossi hurried over to stand next to Aaron helping him to press down on the gaping wound. 

“Where’s that ambulance?” he inquired brusquely. 

“Uh, I dunno,” Morgan replied, “One of the officers called it in, lemme go check on the ETA,” he responded with a nod before turning and hurrying up the steps. 

His words could be heard even before he was completely out of the cellar, inquiring on the whereabouts of the direly needed medical team. 

Hotch reached again with one hand to check Jared’s pulse and when he drew back his hand he shook his head at Rossi, his lips pulled in a thin line of regret. 

“Okay people, we need press harder!” Rossi ordered. 

Rossi’s words and the look on Hotchner’s face caused Reid and Prentiss to move into action, rushing forward to aid their attempts at stemming the flow of blood. As soon as the other two members of the team joined in, Rossi released his hold and moved to begin CPR. 

The stale air that he’d been breathing only a moment before seemed to have been abruptly sucked out of the confines of the room as the world around Jensen suddenly slowed to a crawl; the things that were being said around him all seemed to be coming to him as if from a long way off, muffled and distorted as the members of the BAU circled around Jared in an attempt to help save his life. He could hear Hotchner calling to Morgan over the communicators that each of them wore but the words weren’t registering. Despite that, he knew the moment that things had gone from bad to worse when Misha began to try to pull him away from Jared. However the words that fell from Misha’s lips as he did so were muffled and made no since to his panicked brain. He grappled to retain his hold on Jared, but soon Morgan was there with Misha and the two of them were half carrying him up the stairs and out of the cellar. Tears of anguish rolled down his face unheeded and unchecked unable to find the will to care anymore just how he looked to these people as he stood with Misha, over to one side near the cellar doors. 

He clung to Misha as his shoulders shook with his sobs, his body trembling with heartbreak and pain. He barely noticed the ambulance, its brilliant lights flashing as it arrived; along with the team of paramedics that hurriedly made their way down the cellar to collect his Jared. 

“There’s no pulse!” 

Those words called out in a voice that Jensen didn’t know had him once more struggling to make his way back to Jared’s side, the unreasonable belief that if he was there he could make Jared come back fueling him. He kicked and punched at Misha who despite it all, along with his own tears, clung to Jensen tightly. 

Jensen stopped fighting suddenly as the team of paramedics made their way out of the cellar. His chest heaved, breaths panting out harshly from his prior struggles and sobs. Slowly sobs began to wrack his shoulders anew, the sight of Jared on the ambulance gurney seemly even more horrifically gruesome than it’d been in the dim lighting of the filthy cellar. Each bump that shook the gurney as they loaded Jared into the ambulance seemed to shake Jensen down to his core, leaving a hollow hole where his heart once stood. 

“Oh God!” Jensen cried out through his tears as he reached for Jared again, just before the ambulance doors swung closed though Misha’s arms encircling his waist held fast, keeping Jensen in place.

_ One Week Later _

Jensen tugged at the tightness of the tie that encircled the collar of his starched white dress shirt. The somber grey suit had him yearning for a pair of Dean Winchester’s comfortable jeans and one of his soft flannel shirts instead of the uncomfortable monkey suit that he wore. He squinted against the glare of the sun that shone down from an azure blue cloudless sky, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way that Jared use to find so endearing as he climbed the steep steps that lead into the Las Angeles police department. Having called previously, he was well aware that the BAU team was leaving today, so he wanted to take a couple of extra minutes before he had to be elsewhere to drop by and tell them thanks for all the work that they’d done on Jared’s behalf. 

Pulling open the glass door, he stepped up to the desk only to be awarded with a smile from the woman behind it as she recognized him from the week prior. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Ackles,” she greeted. 

“Afternoon,” he replied with a nod. “Is Agent Hotchner still here?” he inquired. 

“Yes, he and the rest of the team are just gathering up their things before leaving, they're in the conference room.”

Jensen nodded his thanks before making his way around the half circle desk, heading back to the conference room that he knew all too well. He had to draw in deep breaths as he neared the door, attempting to choke back the tears that stung the corners of his eyes. Sniffling softly he reached for the door handle, since this time, it was closed instead of pried open the way it had been the previous week. 

He lifted a hand and knocked on the side of the wall as an afterthought before lowering it and entering, though somehow he had a feeling that the Special Agent already knew he was there, even without the conciliatory knock. 

“Come in,” Aaron Hotchner called out, his attention lifting from the briefcase he was closing, snapping the locks into place with his thumbs. 

A thin smile curved the corners of his tight pressed lips just slightly as his eyes made contact with Jensen’s. 

“Good afternoon, Jensen,” he welcomed as he stepped out from behind the table where the other agents were seated. 

He offered Jensen his hand to shake as he stepped up to him, reaching out with his other hand to clap Jensen’s shoulder warmly. 

Emily Prentiss smiled up at Jensen as she turned in her chair and Derek Morgan nodded in greeting, a smile curling his lips. 

“How are you doing?” Emily inquired. 

Jensen’s attention lowered to Agent Prentiss as he released Aaron’s hand after clapping him on the shoulder with his opposite hand in turn. 

He nodded to Prentiss, “I’m…okay,” he replied. 

“It’s not easy, but we’re making it,” he explained with a nod. 

Emily nodded with a satisfied smile, “Good,” she replied softly. 

“How’s Misha’s eye?” Morgan interjected with a soft chuckle. 

Jensen couldn’t help the smile that curled his lips as he nodded, “Better,” he answered. “Still a kinda ugly shade of yellow, but better,” he replied with a nod. “Although I don’t think he’ll be trying to hold me back from anything again, at least not any time soon anyway,” he added with a soft chuckle. 

J. J. and Garcia grinned and nodded their agreement and understanding of Misha not wanting another shiner anytime in the near future. Derek, Emily and Rossi chuckled good naturedly as they too nodded their agreement and understanding. 

“It’s good to see you,” Hotchner replied warmly. 

“So what’s with the suit?” Garcia inquired from where she stood behind Derek eying Jensen, her blonde brows lifted high with curiosity. 

Jensen chuckled as he ran a hand down the front of his tie, “I, uh, have a news conference that the CW set up this afternoon,” he replied. 

“A lot of the fans want answers,” he remarked with the shrug of one shoulder as he nodded, lips pressed into a thin line of factuality. 

His brows rose as he thought about that, “And my mom is starting to run out of room for all the flowers that the fans are sending in, so…” he commented with a soft snicker. 

“What are you going to tell them?” Reid asked.

“The truth,” Jensen answered simply. “I’m going to tell them that Jared is alive…and that he’s improving,” he said with a nod. 

He sighed heavily as his attention swung back to Hotchner, “And I’m going to tell them not to give out any personal information on the internet. To not toss out there carelessly things like where they are or where they are going,” he said with a sage nod. 

“Maybe we can all learn a little something from this,” he added with a slight shrug returning his attention to Reid. 

“And then I’m gonna tell them that we hope,” he murmured with a glance at Hotch before once again turning his attention back to Reid. 

“We hope,” he repeated, “that they understand and that they will continue to enjoy the show such as it’ll be without Jared there; but that Jared and I will continue to go to conventions and if they want to see him there…” he said allowing his words to trail off meaningfully. 

“Jared’s not going to try to get back to the show?” Hotchner inquired softly. 

Jensen shook his head, “Nah, not with…” he murmured allowing his sentence trail off again as he pressed his lips tightly together, hanging his head sadly. 

He drew in a breath as he lifted his head back up and blinked back the tears that had started to bead up in his eyes, “Who knows, after he’s better…if he wants to come back…I’m sure Eric would love to see him.” 

“How is Jared doing, really?” Rossi inquired gently. 

Jensen sighed, “He has his good days and his bad days…emotionally. Physically he’s healing, the doctors say that his body is healing well,” he answered with a shake of his head. 

“They’re not certain if he’ll ever regain complete sight out of the one eye, but we have a team of plastic surgeons who are going to try to repair as much of the damage to that side of his face, aesthetically as possible,” he replied frankly. 

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, “Danneel’s babyin’ the hell outta him. I swear I don’t think he’s even wiped his face once since he woke up from surgery.” 

“What about after he gets out of the hospital?” Agent Hotchner inquired earnestly. 

Tongue darting out, licking across his lips in a very Dean-esque fashion, Jensen looked back at Hotch, “Dani and I are having a wheelchair ramp and anything else that he might need installed at our place for when he gets out, so that he can move in with us,” he explained. 

Hotchner nodded his understanding and approval. 

Jensen chuckled softly, “Yeah and one of my nephews got Jared a ski cap to wear to hide the places where he’s missing hair, it’s got moose antlers on it, so he loves that,” he added. 

Rossi smiled warmly, “Good,” he murmured with a nod. “It’s good to hear.” 

Jensen returned his attention to Hotch with a smile, “I wanted to be able to come by and thank you,” he said then looked down at the other members of the team, “All of you,” he added pointedly. 

“Jared wouldn’t be alive today if it wasn’t for you,” he murmured returning his attention to Hotch. 

“Anytime,” Aaron replied gently with a nod, a soft smile curling the corners of his lips. 

“Well, I should get outta here, let you guys finish packin’ up,” Jensen remarked, offering Agent Hotchner his hand, shaking the agent’s one more time. 

He took a step back only to step forward again as the other agents rose to their feet, shaking the hands of each one. Emily wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug as did J. J. and Garcia. 

A smile curved his lips and had the corners of his stunning green eyes crinkling as he stepped back and gave them a rather country boy nod, all that was missing was the ten gallon hat for him to tip at the ladies. 

“Thanks again,” he murmured before turning and walking out the door. 

Jensen wasn’t certain what the future might hold for Jared, but the one thing that continued to run though his head whenever he began to worry over it was something that his very religious and beloved Grandmother use to say to him when he was young; _“God knows the plans that he has for you…for all good boys, Jenny…plans to prosper you and not to harm you…”_

The memory of those words from a woman who he had loved beyond measure never failed to bring a smile to his face. He believed in that now for Jared, had faith in those words; that whatever the future might hold, Jared would prosper; despite the actions of a psychotic madman. 

~♥~♥~

**The End**


End file.
